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MILTON  REED 


/• 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


IN  MEMORY  OF 

Takusei  Mizuno 


• 


7%  Golden  Window 
of  the  East 


Oriental  Impressions 

by 

Milton  Reed 

Author  of  "A  Roving  He  Would  Go,"  "The 
Democratic  Ideal,"  "The  Sea  of  Faith  ,"  etc. 

An  hour  before  the  worshipp'd  sun 
Peered  forth  the  golden  window  of  the  east. 
—  Shakespeare 


Boston 

Sherman,  French  &  Company 
1912 


COPYBIGHT,    1912 

SHERMAST,  FRENCH  &  COMPANY 


LOAN  STACK 

ore 


FOREWORD 

The  matter  of  this  volume  is  not  built  upon 
guide-books  and  itineraries.  For  these  the  au- 
thor has  little  use,  and  has  used  them  but  little 
in  his  many  wanderings. 

The  author's  theory  has  been  that  the  wan- 
derer, before  his  start,  should  absorb  in  his  mem- 
ory all  the  information  possible  of  the  countries 
he  is  about  to  visit,  keep  his  mind  open  for  local 
impressions,  see  with  his  own  eyes  and  make  his 
own  judgments. 

All  the  following  chapters  were  written  on  the 
spot,  as  the  author  moved  from  place  to  place, 
and  while  the  local  color  was  most  vivid.  His 
most  abiding  interest  was  in  the  human  element: 
the  ancient  races  of  the  Oriental  home-land:  and 
in  the  sharp  contrasts  in  the  social  life  of  the 
East  and  West. 

He  hopes  that  some  of  this  interest  may  be 
transmuted  into  the  minds  of  those  who  are  kind 
enough  to  read  the  volume. 

MILTON  REED. 


455 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  OVERLAND 1 

II  ON  THE  PACIFIC 8 

III  RAINBOW-CROWNED  HONOLULU  ...  12 

IV  JAPAN   REVISITED 21 

V  THE  JAPAN  OF  TO-DAY 28 

VI  THE    PHILIPPINE    ISLANDS    ....  37 

VII  HONG  KONG 49 

VIII  FROM  HONG  KONG  TO  SINGAPORE   .      .  60 

IX  JAVA,   THE    ENCHANTED   ISLE    ...  68 

X  THE  MALAYAN  PENINSULA   ....  105 

XI  BURMA 125 

XII  INDIA 134 

XIII  INDIA    (Continued) 145 

XIV  INDIA    (Continued) 158 

XV  INDIA    (Continued) 169 

XVI  INDIA    (Continued) 183 

XVII  INDIA    (Continued) 197 

XVIII  CEYLON,  THE  BEAUTIFUL     .      .      .      .211 


OVERLAND 

There  lies  your  way,  due  West.     Then  Westward-ho. 

Shakespeare. 

Leaving  Boston,  under  November  skies,  the 
train  whisked  over  the  Berkshire  Hills  into  the 
Hudson  Valley;  thence  reeled  through  the  rich 
plains  of  Central  New  York;  chopped  into  the 
northwest  corner  of  Pennsylvania;  then  cut  an 
almost  straight  line  through  the  Western  Re- 
serve of  Ohio ;  flitted  through  great  cities  as  if 
over  beds  of  mushrooms ;  penetrated  into  Indiana 
and  slipped  along  a  cordon  o£  manufacturing 
cities;  skirted  the  sandy  shores  of  Lake  Erie; 
thence  bounced  over  the  Indiana  levels ;  touched 
the  watery  hem  of  Lake  Michigan;  and,  at  last, 
emptied  its  passengers  in  the  monster  city  of 
Chicago. 

CHICAGO 

Such  a  maze  of  human  interests ;  such  a  gaunt 
and  smoky  exterior;  but  such  cordial  and  hos- 
pitable interiors ;  such  abounding  good-fellow- 
ship; warm  welcomes  and  regretted  partings. 
Chicago  is  the  typical  expression  of  the  Ameri- 
can spirit;  with  its  rush,  its  incredible  dynamics 

1 


2    GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

of  energy,  its  masterful  advance.  One's  head  al- 
most reels  in  reading  of  its  mighty  cobweb  of 
streets ;  of  its  millions  of  capital ;  of  its  am- 
bitious buildings,  its  restless  vigor.  Chicago  is 
a  wonderful  mirror  of  modern  life.  It  has  lured 
to  itself  some  of  the  best  human  stuff  of  the 
world.  It  has  offered  opportunities  which  have 
been  grasped  by  the  shrewd.  Along  with  talent 
and  brain,  there  naturally  has  come  also  a  sweep- 
ing-in  of  some  of  the  world's  bilge,  from  which  no 
community  is  exempt.  The  youth  and  vigor  of 
the  city  have  made  it  plastic ;  it  responds  to  every 
pressure  of  science  and  progress. 

The  instinct  for  great  undertakings,  the  au- 
dacity of  conception,  the  thoroughness  of  com- 
pletion, the  masterful  designs,  are  what  have  most 
deeply  impressed  me,  in  the  Chicago  spirit. 
Here  are  two  instances : 

The  immense  increase  in  population,  the  ex- 
tension of  the  city  in  every  direction  but  the 
east, — where  Lake  Michigan  imposes  an  impass- 
able barrier, — the  general  flatness  of  the  land, 
the  vast  volume  of  railroad  traffic,  have  led,  as 
in  other  cities,  to  the  abolition  of  grade  crossings. 
Much  of  the  work  has  been  done;  among  those 
uncompleted  is  the  Grand  Avenue  crossing.  It 
has  been  learned  that  1,400  trains  pass  over  this 
crossing  every  day.  Now,  by  the  concerted  ac- 
tion of  the  five  railroad  corporations  using  it,  a 
gigantic  work  of  engineering,  at  an  estimated 
cost  of  $155,000,000,  is  to  create  viaducts  and 


OVERLAND  3 

subways  over  and  under  the  prairie.  Modern 
engineering1  laughs  at  natural  obstacles.  The 
old  earth  is  kneaded,  raised  and  lowered,  at  man's 
whim. 

In  the  external  aspect  of  Chicago,  nothing  is 
more  noticeable  than  the  monstrous  buildings  in 
the  congested  districts.  To  make  way  for  these 
towering  structures,  buildings  are  ruthlessly 
sacrificed  which,  in  their  day,  cost  large  sums. 
Greater  and  greater,  higher  and  higher  buildings 
take  their  place.  I  have  a  friend  of  German 
birth,  who  came  to  this  country,  poor,  and  ig- 
norant of  our  language,  shortly  after  the  close 
of  the  Civil  War.  He  obtained  work  as  a  car- 
penter; then  became  a  contractor  in  the  con- 
struction of  steel-ribbed  buildings ;  acquired 
land  with  a  wise  guess  as  to  the  future 
growth  of  Chicago;  and  now  is  worth  sev- 
eral millions  of  dollars.  He  is  seventy-four  years 
of  age,  undaunted  and  progressive.  He  is  leav- 
ing his  mark  upon  his  adoptive  city  by  the  con- 
struction of  a  great  apartment  building,  costing 
$1,600,000.  Age  has  not  chilled  his  activities. 
At  'a  time  when  most  men  have  retreated  from 
life's  heats  into  the  calm  seclusion  of  old  age,  he 
personally  supervises  this  exacting  enterprise 
with  the  eagerness  of  youth;  watches  every  beam 
and  adjustment  with  a  master's  eye.  He  looks 
not  back  to  the  lost  years  of  his  past,  but  ad- 
vances to  meet  the  industrial  needs  of  the  un- 
known future  with  a  noble  audacity.  Such  is  a 


4         GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

manifestation  of  the  spirit  which  has  created  the 
Chicago  of  to-day. 

OVER    THE    ROCKIES 

After  a  day  and  a  half  in  Chicago,  crowded 
with  the  gracious  hospitality  of  my  friends,  Dr. 
and  Mrs.  George  M.  Chamberlin,  we  took  the 
Overland  special  at  the  noble  Northwestern  Rail- 
road station,  for  San  Francisco.  Crossing  Illi- 
nois and  Iowa  in  the  night-time,  nothing  was  seen 
by  us  of  their  stretch  of  farms  of  almost  un- 
equaled  agricultural  productiveness.  In  the 
early  morning  we  crossed  the  Missouri  from  Coun- 
cil Bluffs  to  Omaha,  and  entered  Nebraska. 
Here  we  had  the  first  touch  of  winter.  The  tem- 
perature had  fallen  to  the  freezing  point  during 
the  night,  and  a  light  fluff  of  snow  had  powdered 
the  dun  fields.  As  we  crossed  the  River  Platte, 
its  surface  was  crusted  with  a  film  of  ice.  All 
day  long  the  train  rolled  over  the  Nebraska  prai- 
ries. We  skipped  for  a  few  miles  into  Colorado, 
and  then  twisted  into  rugged,  scrawny  Wyoming. 
The  rolling  land,  dusty  with  alkali,  the  bare  fur- 
rows, the  wrinkled  hills,  had  an  inhospitable  as- 
pect, juiceless  and  hard.  In  Utah  we  felt  the 
solitudes  of  its  deserts ;  not  so  grim  as  those  of 
New  Mexico  and  Arizona,  but  inarticulate  in 
their  dreariness.  Sagebrush  and  the  cactus  are 
their  expression  of  vegetable  life ;  rock,  dust  and 
alkali  sprinkle  the  landscape  with  a  grizzly  color. 
It  was  in  Great  Salt  Lake  valley  that  I  again 


OVERLAND  5 

realized  what  the  Mormons  had  done  in  the  way 
of  fighting  the  ferocity  of  nature,  reclaiming 
the  wilderness  and  fitting  it  for  the  needs  of  man. 
From  Omaha  onward  we  had  been  on  the  Union 
Pacific  system.  Once  more  I  rode  over  the  tres- 
tle, some  thirty  miles  in  length,  which  the  rail- 
road company  has  built,  across  an  arm  of  Great 
Salt  Lake.  Uncanny,  spectral,  uninterpretable 
are  such  basins  of  salt  as  this  lake  and  the  Dead 
Sea  of  Palestine.  We  associate  inland  waters 
with  buoyant,  bubbling  life.  Shores  glistening 
with  crystal  salt,  a  pungent,  saline  odor  in  the 
air,  an  absence  of  birds  and  fish-life,  drape  such 
a  body  of  water  in  a  shroud  of  unreality. 

Yet,  the  setting  was  splendid;  around  us,  the 
dipping  hills  of  the  Uinta  and  Wasatch  moun- 
tain ranges ;  the  lead-colored  waters,  tinted  with 
the  flickering  rays  of  the  descending  sun ;  the 
air,  sparkling  under  some  current  of  electric  vor- 
tices ;  the  long  train  curling  along  over  the  tres- 
tle. The  scene  was  one  of  almost  supernatural 
beauty ;  all  was  so  strange,  so  detached  from  con- 
ventional life. 

Then  the  train  plunged  into  the  mountain 
gorges.  Nevada,  with  its  arid  hills,  its  wilder- 
ness of  sage  brush,  was  traversed  during  the 
night.  In  the  morning  there  was  a  stop  at 
Reno,  and  we  entered  California  at  Truckee  and 
came  under  the  Southern  Pacific  system.  Soon 
we  were  in  a  wonderland  of  mystery  and 
beauty.  The  snowsheds  over  the  track  on  the 


6         GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

high  Sierras  being  passed,  and  the  Continental 
Divide,  some  8000  feet  in  altitude,  having  pre- 
viously been  crossed;  desert,  alkali,  dust  and 
grime  left  behind, — we  fed  our  eyes  on  the  glori- 
ous beauty  of  the  Blue  Canyon  and  the  riotous 
Sierras.  The  great  ranches  of  the  Sacramento 
Valley  were  spread  out  like  enormous  fans.  A 
flange  of  hills  sent  down  a  current  of  sweet  moun- 
tain air.  We  had  spanned  canyons,  heard  the 
gurgle  of  tumbling  waterfalls,  leaped  from  moun- 
tain to  valley  and  from  valley  to  mountain ;  rocky 
fastnesses  had  opened  their  arms  for  us;  the 
plains  had  crouched  before  us;  we  were  in  Sac- 
ramento. From  this  point  the  ride  to  Benicia 
did  not  seem  long.  Here  a  huge  ferry  boat  swal- 
lowed our  train.  We  passed  over  the  water,  un- 
der the  shadow  of  Mount  Diabolo,  to  Oakland ; 
thence  in  the  early  afternoon  we  were  delivered 
from  another  and  longer  ferry-ride  into  San 
Francisco. 

SAN    FRANCISCO 

The  city  at  the  Golden  Gate  has  arisen  from 
its  ruins  into  splendor.  The  old  San  Francisco 
is  no  more.  The  Forty-Niners  would  no  longer 
recognize  it.  I  was  here,  on  the  last  of  several 
visits,  when  the  crack  of  the  earthquake,  the  fiery 
breath  of  a  conflagration,  had  left  the  city 
scarred  and  blasted.  Now  it  is  a  network  of 
vast  hotels  and  apartment  houses.  I  asked  my- 
self: Are  there  no  homes  here?  Detached 


OVERLAND  7 

houses  are  rare.  Market  Street  is  again  lined 
with  big  shops,  theaters,  hotels  and  cafes.  The 
unique  climate  alone  has  not  changed.  Chilly 
winds  still  squeal  over  the  city.  One  side  of  a 
street  may  be  semi-tropical ;  the  other  freezing. 
There  had  been  no  rain  for  months ;  the  air  was 
pregnant  with  impalpable  dust.  The  rainy  sea- 
son was  due ;  I  know  from  experience  what  a 
splash  and  wash  this  season  is  in  San  Francisco. 
Our  stay  in  California  was  brief;  most  of  it 
passed  as  the  guests  of  my  classmate,  William  T. 
Reid,  at  Belmont. 


II 

ON  THE  PACIFIC 
FROM  THE  GOLDEN  GATE  TO  HONOLULU 

The  burden  of  the  desert  of  the  sea. 

Isaiah. 

Back  in  San  Francisco  for  one  night;  then  the 
embarkment  the  next  day  for  the  tremendous 
voyage  to  Hong  Kong,  over  the  trackless  Pacific. 
We  embarked  amid  the  hub-bub  of  farewells, 
the  scrambling  after  luggage,  and  the  usual  con- 
fusion attending  the  departure  of  a  steamer. 
Once  on  board,  one  seemed  to  have  stepped  into 
the  Orient.  The  officers  were  Americans,  but  all 
the  crew  and  stewards  Chinese;  and  every  one  of 
the  Chinese  had  suffered  amputation  of  his  queue, 
to  indicate  his  sympathy  with  the  revolutionary 
party  in  the  Celestial  Empire. 

November  9. — The  steamer  is  now  about  900 
miles  from  the  Golden  Gate.  Its  huge  bulk  slips 
along  gently  on  the  soft  bosom  of  the  Pacific.  It 
carries  1000  souls;  each  leading  his  own  life;  liv- 
ing on  the  steamer  for  variant  purposes.  There 
do  not  seem  to  be  many  tourists ;  it  is  not  yet  the 
tourist  season.  There  are  quite  a  number  of  gov- 
ernment officials  bound  for  Manila ;  some  are 

8 


ON  THE  PACIFIC  9 

spruce  officers,  who  walk  the  deck  with  a  military 
air;  others  are  clerks  and  educators.  The  Ameri- 
can government  allows  each  of  its  Philippine  em- 
ployes a  six  months'  vacation,  with  full  pay  and 
an  allowance  for  transportation,  every  three 
years.  This  is  necessary  for  sanitary  considera- 
tions. Surely  the  Philippines  are  a  costly  ex- 
periment. 

The  passengers  represent  many  nationalities. 
Steamer  life  is  a  strange  mixture.  The  accident 
of  travel  brings  together  representatives  of  many 
strains  of  the  sons  of  men.  Perhaps  twenty  Jap- 
anese are  on  the  way  to  their  home  land,  Nippon ; 
all  can  talk  English;  they  are  courteous  and  af- 
fable. 

Travel  is  certainly  not  a  field  for  serious  read- 
ing. A  life  of  constant  change  is  jerky  and 
ragged.  However,  nearly  all  travelers  pretend 
to  read  something,  however  frothy.  On  cars  and 
steamers  the  trashy  novel  reigns  supreme.  In 
our  parlor  car  I  observed  but  one  person  reading 
a  serious  book,  and  he  was  a  Japanese,  Prof. 
Coolidge's  "The  United  States  as  a  World 
Power." 

A  few  missionaries  are  among  the  passengers — 
men  generally  of  culture,  who  are  willing  to  ex- 
patriate themselves  from  home  and  friends  to 
carry  the  religion  of  Christ,  a  message  of  good 
will,  of  education  and  of  uplift,  to  the  weltering 
millions  in  Asia. 


10       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

About  one-half  the  passengers  are  business  men, 
traders :  buyers  of  Oriental  wares ;  sellers  of  Amer- 
ican machinery ;  purchasers  of  rubber  in  the  East. 

So,  each  of  us  wanderers  "chases  his  favorite 
phantom."  Each  has  his  purpose.  Some  mag- 
net has  drawn  all  of  us  into  this  iron  monster  fur- 
rowing its  way  over  the  abysmal  wastes  of  the 
Pacific. 

November  10. — Perhaps  the  most  impressive 
element  in  a  voyage  over  the  Pacific  is  that  of  its 
desolateness  and  solitude.  We  are  now  three 
days  out  from  the  Golden  Gate ;  and,  in  that  time, 
have  sighted  but  one  vessel,  a  Japanese  steamer. 
Even  the  birds  of  the  air  and  the  finny  creatures 
of  the  deep  refuse  us  their  companionship.  The 
air  and  ocean  seem  destitute  of  organic  life. 

Many  Chinese  in  the  steerage  spend  their  time 
and  risk  their  hard  earnings  in  gambling  at  fan- 
tan.  At  home  or  abroad,  the  gambling  instinct 
lures  too  many  of  the  Orientals  into  poverty. 
What  drunkenness  is  to  the  Occidental,  so  is  gam- 
bling to  the  Oriental :  forces  which  condemn  thou- 
sands to  the  scrap-heap.  Yet  gambling  seems  an 
almost  universal  mania.  The  great  American 
game  of  poker  absorbs  the  attention  of  a  score 
of  tourists  in  the  first  cabin.  There  are  rumors 
of  all-night  sittings  at  the  game:  of  large  losses 
and  gains,  as  a  matter  of  course. 

Glorious  weather  still.  The  ocean  seems  a 
flowing  curtain  of  purple,  tufted  with  sprays  of 
cresting  white. 


ON  THE  PACIFIC  11 

November  11. — We  are  leaving  the  trade- winds 
behind  us.  A  wave  of  heat  has  swept  up  from 
the  tropics  and  is  cushioning  the  air. 

Singular:  what  a  mixture  of  people  gathers  on 
the  iron  tub  which  is  ferrying  us  over  the  Pacific. 
A  millionaire-dowered  daughter  of  a  great  rail- 
road magnate,  anemic  and  pale,  spends  a  part 
of  her  honeymoon  tour  in  sucking  cigarettes. 
She  is  not  the  only  female  on  board  who  indulges 
in  this  pastime. 

Singular,  also :  How  the  Latin  races  have  been 
taught  politeness.  A  Brazilian  lawyer  and  his 
wife  sat  near  us  at  the  table,  attractive  in  the 
neatness  of  their  apparel  and  elegant  in  their 
natural  courtesy.  When  will  we  of  the  English- 
speaking  race  find  time  to  cultivate  our  manners 
to  this  velvet  finish?  Are  we  too  busy? 

Such  glorious  moonlight,  mellow  and  lustrous. 
The  wrinkled  sea  trembles  in  silver  threads  under 
the  moon's  opulence.  On  the  Pacific,  time  and 
space  have  little  meaning;  the  ocean  seems  a  type 
of  universal  space:  "Thou  goest  forth,  dread, 
fathomless,  alone." 

Under  the  flare  of  the  sun,  and  in  the  silent 
watches  of  the  night,  we  have  the  sweeping  ocean 
to  ourselves.  We  seem  to  touch  infinitude.  The 
big  steamer  rocks,  under  its  subdued  enginery, 
softly  as  a  sea-fowl.  On  the  heaving  breast  of 
the  ocean  it  is  only  a  feather.  The  waters  close 
over  its  wake.  It  is  hardly  a  bubble  in  the  yeast 
of  brine. 


Ill 

RAINBOW-CROWNED  HONOLULU 

From  summits  where  tired  winds  are  fain, 
Spent  with  the  vast  and  howling  main, 
To  treasure   half  their  island-gain. 

Browning. 

November  14. — Is  it  possible  that  we  have 
been  in  rainbow-decked  Honolulu  and  are  now 
a  day's  run  from  it?  What  a  fleeting  vision 
of  one  of  the  sweetest  of  this  world's  beauty 
spots !  In  the  silences  of  the  early  morning  the 
island  of  Oahu  rose  from  the  deep  and  lured  us 
ashore.  Passing  the  great  cliff  of  Diamond 
Head,  now  the  guardian  of  Honolulu,  ribbed  with 
cannon,  perforated  with  port-holes,  stored  with 
reservoirs  of  powder,  food  and  water ;  linked  from 
side  to  side  with  a  tunnel  pierced  through  the 
spongy  tufa,  we  entered  the  harbor  of  the  city. 
In  the  background  towered  Punch  Bowl  and  Tan- 
talus, the  two  hills  upon  whose  flanks  the  city 
creeps  down  to  the  shore-line.  A  thicket  of  trees 
embowered  the  sections  of  the  city  used  for  resi- 
dences. As  the  steamer  lurched  its  way  up  to 
the  wharf,  buildings  familiar  to  me  came  into 
view.  As  we  drew  within  hailing  distance,  a  wave 
of  the  hand  told  me  that  my  friend,  Hen.  William 

12 


RAINBOW-CROWNED  HONOLULU     13 

R.  Castle,  had  come  down  to  meet  me,  with  gra- 
cious Hawaiian  hospitality.  Soon  we  were  by  his 
side  and  were  riding  in  a  motor-car,  as  his  guests, 
along  rows  of  hibiscus,  a  wealth  of  the  scarlet 
poinsettia,  by  columns  of  plumy  palms,  and  all 
the  pageant  of  aborescent  beauty  which  gilds  the 
landscapes  of  this  delicious  land.  Sweet  was  the 
air  that  was  distilled  from  the  hills.  A  rainbow, 
glistening  on  the  uplands,  in  the  refraction  from 
a  morning  shower,  was,  indeed,  the  bow  of  prom- 
ise. 

Swarthy  Kanakas  were  on  the  streets  peddling 
fruits  and  flowers.  Gorgeous  wreaths  (leis)  were 
offered  to  the  stranger  to  be  worn  on  his  neck, 
as  a  symbol  of  welcome.  All  was  so  different 
from  the  colder  life  of  our  home-land ;  a  gush  of 
warmth,  a  flow  of  friendliness,  a  cordial  of  sun- 
shine; the  whispering  fall  of  the  mountain 
brooks ;  the  downy  clouds ;  the  feathering  surf 
breaking  over  the  coralline  reefs ;  the  blending 
of  strange  races ;  all  presented  aspects  of  that 
delicate  charm  with  which  those  mid-Pacific 
islands  are  dowered. 

Our  car,  a  Kanaka  half-breed  acting  as  chauf- 
feur, was  soon  on  its  way  to  Waikiki  Beach  and 
the  Moana  Hotel,  to  the  aquarium,  where  we  saw 
some  of  the  strangest  and  most  beautiful  forms 
of  fish-life  that  inhabit  the  ocean.  With  the 
possible  exception  of  the  aquarium  at  Naples, 
Italy,  this  at  Honolulu  contains  the  most  inter- 
esting types  of  fish  of  all  such  exhibitions. 


14       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

MARINE    LIFE 

How  little  we  know  of  marine  life;  its  popu- 
lousness  and  diversity;  of  the  splendor  of  color; 
the  amazing  variety  of  anatomy.  No  bird  that 
springs  into  the  vaulted  air  and  circles  in  space ; 
no  feathered  inhabitant  of  Brazilian  or  African 
forests,  no  winged  wilding  of  the  jungle,  plain  or 
mountain,  is  preened  with  more  glorious  colors 
than  some  of  these  finny  creatures,  whose  home 
is  in  the  translucent  coral-groves,  whose  element 
is  the  deep,  cool  brine.  What  a  cornucopia 
Mother  Nature  must  have  when  she  distills  such 
glorious  coloring  in  the  alembic  of  the  ocean  and 
paints  it  over  tiny  creatures,  whose  wanderings 
are  where  no  human  eye  follows  them.  Is  this 
waste  or  does  it  prove  that  when  the  brain  and 
eye  of  man  have  been  trained  by  the  study  of  all 
the  relations  of  organic  life,  we  shall  find  har- 
monies and  beauty  everywhere;  in  the  echoing 
caves  of  the  ocean,  as  well  as  in  the  starry  gar- 
dens of  the  sky,  and  in  the  wild  flowers  that  gush 
and  gleam  wherever  the  properties  of  the  soil 
permit  them  to  live. 

Little,  indeed,  do  we  know  of  the  copiousness, 
richness  and  incalculable  diversities  of  every  form 
which  life  assumes ;  and  all  this  seeming  wasteful- 
ness may  have  an  element  of  economy. 

For  instance,  in  the  Honolulu  aquarium,  fish- 
life  begins  with  the  flat  creatures,  whose  bodies 
are  so  thin,  and  whose  color,  if  color  it  may  be 


RAINBOW-CROWNED  HONOLULU     15 

called,  so  closely  resembles  the  sand  or  gravel  at 
the  bottom  of  the  tank  that  they  are  scarcely 
distinguishable  from  the  earthy  substance.  The 
grossest  types  are  thus  shielded  from  their  ene- 
mies by  nature's  protective  forces.  Then  the 
types  ascend  to  the  exquisite  angel-fish;  the  elec- 
tric eel,  and  many  a  creature  which  glided 
through  the  water,  contributing  a  flash  of  color 
and  a  gracefulness  of  motion  closely  akin  to  bird- 
life.  One  type  of  fish  was  cerulean  blue,  as  the 
naturalist  Thoreau  said  of  the  bluebird,  "carry- 
ing the  sky  on  its  back" ;  others  were  painted  in 
red,  as  if  swathed  in  fire;  some  were  zebra- 
striped;  some  of  a  pale,  opalescent,  bluish  color. 
There  were  ranges  of  decoration  from  the  in- 
tensest  and  deepest  hues  to  the  faintest,  softest 
and  most  delicate  pigments  into  which  the  gold, 
silver  and  most  heightened  daubs  had  evaporated. 
The  craw-fish  crawled  along  the  bottom ;  the  re- 
pulsive squid,  the  cuttle-fish,  opened  his  tubular 
lungs  and  clung,  a  pulpy,  flabby  mass,  to  the 
coral.  Thus  the  fish-life  passed  from  distorted, 
hideous  forms  into  shapes  of  rare  and  changeful 
loveliness ;  children  of  the  coral  groves ;  born, 
living,  dying,  in  their  natural  element  of  brine ; 
their  lives  spent  in  killing  each  other  in  the  great 
charnel  house  of  the  ocean. 

The  outlay  of  the  United  States  government 
in  fortifying  Pearl  Harbor  and  Diamond  Head 
and  establishing  the  military  defense  of  the 
islands  has  dispersed  a  great  amount  of  money 


16       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

among  the  local  communities.  There  were  evi- 
dences of  a  healthy  growth  since  my  last  visit; 
of  new  roads  established ;  more  houses ;  a  larger 
civic  life. 

A  revisit  to  the  Pali,  the  picturesque  moun- 
tain pass;  the  scene  of  a  sanguinary  battle  in 
1795,  which  resulted  in  the  conquest  of  Oahu  by 
King  Kamehemeha;  a  pass  which  is  a  gash  in 
volcanic  hills  embroidered  in  living  green,  and 
commanding  a  superb  view  of  ocean,  valley, 
coasts,  vaulting  hills,  and  billowy  sky,  was  a  fit- 
ting close  to  a  lovely  day,  which  had  been 
crowned  with  such  unstinted  hospitality  and 
rounds  of  pleasure. 

Now  the  beautiful  island  of  Oahu,  embroidered 
with  rainbows,  freshened  by  gurgling  cataracts, 
shadowed  with  verdant  valleys,  fringed  with 
palms,  fanned  by  soft  winds,  washed  by  the  foam- 
ing surf,  pranked  with  the  plumage  of  tropical 
shrubs,  and  above  all,  inhabited  by  people  with 
whom  hospitality  is  spontaneous  and  directed  by 
a  high  courtesy, — is  left  behind. 

Once  more  the  bulky  steamer  moves  beyond  the 
jetties.  Eighty  passengers  have  left  us  and 
only  twelve  new  ones  have  started  on  our  run 
of  ten  days  to  Yokohama. 

STEAMER-LIFE 

November  17. — Three  days  out  from  Hono- 
lulu, in  a  general  northwesterly  course.  The  Pa- 


RAINBOW-CROWNED  HONOLULU     17 

cific  presents  an  expressionless  face;  except  for 
the  wake  of  our  steamer  there  is  not  a  fleck  of 
white  on  its  green  cloak.  No  whisper  reaches 
us  from  its  rhythmic  swell.  The  lustrous  air  is 
charged  with  a  gush  of  heat  which  has  sucked 
the  sharp  edge  of  the  trade-winds.  It  seems  like 
an  empty  vortex ;  as  if  all  life-sustaining  qualities 
had  been  exhausted  by  some  heat-drainage.  Life 
aboard  the  steamer  shares  in  the  atmospheric 
narcotic.  Women  have  donned  thin  apparel ; 
men  are  in  their  shirt-sleeves.  The  opiate  of  the 
Orient  saps  Northern  vigor  and  de-energizes 
brain  and  muscle.  The  mind  recoils  from  exer- 
cise; to  read  is  soon  to  forget  what  has  been 
read.  Alone,  with  no  companionship  but  that  of 
the  voiceless  ocean  and  mute  stars,  in  unimagin- 
able desolateness,  we  have  the  Pacific  to  ourselves. 
Above  its  immeasurable  expanse,  the  hollow  dome 
of  the  sky,  tinged  at  the  dip  of  the  horizon  with 
silvery  clouds,  seems  an  inverted  ocean. 

November  18. — To-day  is  Saturday  on  the  cal- 
endar. It  should  be  Friday,  but  that  day  has  been 
lost ;  blotted  out.  This  morning  we  crossed  the 
meridian  of  180  degrees,  and  therefore  dropped 
a  day.  In  following  the  run  westward  we  lose 
about  twenty  minutes  each  day ;  midway  from 
Greenwich  the  lost  hours  amount  to  a  full  day ; 
so  it  dies,  still-born.  Thus  we  have  the  strange 
experience  of  living  two  days  in  one.  Our  arti- 
ficial contrivance  for  marking  the  time  collides 
with  astronomical  time;  the  natural  prevails  over 


18       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

the  artificial;  man's  calendar  loses  going  west- 
ward what  it  gains  going  eastward.  This  week, 
then,  must  get  along  with  six  days. 

AVOIDING    A    TYPHOON 

The  typhoon  is  the  dread  of  mariners  on  the 
Pacific,  where  it  has  its  lair.  The  monsoon  is  a 
steady  wind  which  blows  in  certain  months  of  the 
year  in  the  central  and  southern  Pacific.  When 
it  sweeps  from  the  Himalayas,  it  scorches  and 
blisters ;  when  it  pours  itself  up  from  Polynesia 
it  brings  rain.  It  is  not  destructive  in  violence. 

The  typhoon  arises  from  an  atmospheric  de- 
pression; a  vacuum  is  created;  the  winds  rush  in 
to  fill  it;  a  tremendous  energy  is  developed;  de- 
struction, often  death,  are  in  its  dreaded  wake; 
it  is  cyclonic;  it  races  in  a  circle. 

Yesterday,  as  I  have  written,  was  almost  pre- 
ternaturally  calm;  pulseless,  windless.  The  ocean 
was  ironed  down  to  a  glassy  mirror;  at  times  the 
air  was  stifling;  to  breathe  it  was  like  panting  in 
a  vacuum.  What  did  this  uncanniness  mean? 
The  passengers  did  not  know,  but  the  steamer's 
officers  did.  Night  before  last,  the  click  of  the 
wireless  was  heard  by  us  for  some  time;  yet  no 
message  was  reported.  It  was  evident  that  some- 
one had  communicated  with  our  steamer.  The 
officers  kept  their  own  counsel. 

Shortly  after  lunch  the  crew  were  piped  to  a 
fire  drill.  Some  wore  life  preservers ;  at  a  signal 
the  lifeboats  were  lowered  and  then  raised  back 


RAINBOW-CROWNED  HONOLULU     19 

to  their  positions.  Later  on,  all  the  awnings 
were  removed;  the  oars  were  taken  from  the  life- 
boats and  stacked  in  detachments  on  the  deck. 
The  Chinese  crew  did  all  this  work  in  an  orderly 
manner. 

Then,  suddenly,  the  steamer's  course  was 
changed  from  the  northwest  to  the  south;  speed 
was  slacked;  evidently  the  machinery  was  under 
test,  to  ascertain  if  it  would  respond  to  the  com- 
pass in  a  sudden  emergency;  the  tests  appeared 
to  be  satisfactory. 

Passengers  wondered  what  all  this  meant ;  they 
soon  understood  something  of  the  situation.  Al- 
most instantaneously  a  frowning  mass  of  dark 
cloud  seemed  to  leap  from  the  sea  into  the  air 
to  the  westward.  It  grew  darker  and  darker, 
and  its  monstrous  face  was  anything  but  be- 
nignant. Like  an  all-compassing  shadow  it 
moved  toward  the  steamer.  Had  we  continued 
on  the  northwesterly  course  it  would  have  envel- 
oped us ;  but,  like  a  deer  escaping  from  a  wolf's 
jaws,  the  captain  had  the  steamer  to  the  south- 
ward. 

Night  fell  upon  the  deep  while  the  steamer 
was  clipping  its  way  from  the  mop  of  clouds. 
A  wash  of  ruffling  waves  lay  between  us.  Look- 
puts  were  stationed  at  several  angles  of  the 
steamer.  The  captain  kept  to  the  bridge;  there 
was  no  excitement;  possibly  no  serious  danger; 
but  the  situation  demanded  extreme  caution. 
We  saw  why  so  many  precautionary  measures  had 


20       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

been  taken.  We  afterwards  learned  that  the  wire- 
less, on  the  night  before,  had  caught  word  from 
an  east-bound  steamer  that  it  had  encountered 
rough  weather  and  a  typhoon  on  the  coast  of 
Japan.  Thus  the  wireless  saved  our  steamer  from 
a  present  encounter  with  it.  We  rode  out  of  its 
wake  forewarned.  The  steamer  was  not  sucked  into 
its  vortex,  to  struggle  with  the  hideous  aerial 
monster ;  born  from  the  uncreate ;  whose  air- 
strands  are  strong  as  links  of  iron ;  whose  im- 
palpable arms  have  the  clutch  of  death ;  in  whose 
vice  many  a  sailing-craft  has  gone  down  to  wa- 
tery death ;  an  enemy  with  which  the  giant 
steamer,  sheathed  in  iron,  buttressed  with  most 
powerful  machinery,  dreads  to  grapple.  Such  is 
one  of  the  perils  of  the  deep;  perils  that  grow 
less  and  less,  as  the  human  brain  provides  me- 
chanical weapons  to  the  mariner,  with  which  to 
meet  them. 

To-day,  the  cloud-monster  has  vanished.  The 
water  is  corrugated.  Once  more  on  our  north- 
west course,  the  temperature  is  falling.  For 
some  days,  at  least,  we  are  emerging  from  trop- 
ical heats. 

We  are  chopping  along  in  the  foaming  trough 
left  by  the  typhoon.  That  eyeless,  formless, 
bodyless  creature  of  the  air,  that  dragon  of  in- 
visible powers,  whose  teeth  and  claws  are  the 
sightless  winds,  has  left  us  at  least  for  a  time. 
Is  it  dissolved  into  its  impalpable  elements  or  is 
it  brooding  in  the  path  of  some  other  wayfarer 
on  the  Pacific? 


IV 

JAPAN  REVISITED 

From  the  far-off  isles  enchanted 

Heaven  has  planted 
With  the  golden  fruit  of  Truth. 

Longfellow. 

November  24. — When  I  peeked  out  of  the 
porthole  in  my  stateroom  this  morning,  I  was 
glad  to  see  a  landfall,  the  rocky  coast  of  Japan. 
More  than  3300  miles  of  ocean  waste  were  be- 
hind us  since  we  left  Honolulu.  We  had  crept 
up  into  the  Northwest  Pacific;  encountered 
strong  winds  and  rushing  currents.  Nothing 
was  left  of  our  track.  We  had  merely  made  a 
few  bubbles,  a  little  spray  on  the  laughing  or 
sobbing  ocean,  which  had  immediately  been  swal- 
lowed into  its  all-devouring  stomach. 

Now  we  are  to  tread  once  more  on  the  dry  husk 
of  the  earth ;  to  exchange  our  desolateness  for 
human  companionship. 

The  first  to  greet  us  were  the  white-robed 
gulls.  Where  there  is  a  vessel,  their  instinct  tells 
them  there  may  be  food.  Out  of  the  silences  of 
the  sky,  rising  and  falling  with  the  billows,  fan- 
ning the  salty  air,  they  whirled  around  us. 

The  sea  is  a  great  feeder  of  Japan.  Without 
21 


22       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

its  harvest  of  fish  it  is  hard  to  see  how  its  swarm- 
ing millions  could  subsist.  As  it  is,  there  are  re- 
ports of  tendencies  to  exhaustion  of  the  fish  sup- 
ply; and  the  government  is  taking  measures  to 
protect  it.  Poultry  is  almost  the  only  flesh  food 
of  the  Japanese.  For  ages,  the  nimble,  athletic 
little  Jap  has  made  the  sea  his  home;  from  it  he 
has  drawn  food  which  has  largely  fed  the  nation. 
We  passed  through  the  skein  of  forts  whch 
guard  Yokohama  and  Tokio.  The  harbor  of 
the  latter  is  shallow  and  of  little  value. 

SOME    JAPANESE    PORTS 

Yokohama  is  the  main  port  of  entry  of  Japan. 
It  is  cordoned  with  military  defenses.  Millions 
and  millions  of  money  have  been  expended  in  de- 
veloping them.  We  saw,  at  a  distance,  the  navy- 
yard  where  Japan  now  builds  her  men-of-war. 
The  spunky  little  kingdom  does  not  intend  to  be 
caught  napping.  Like  England,  its  insularity  is 
one  of  its  main  defenses.  An  enemy  can  steal 
upon  it  only  from  the  sea;  so,  everywhere  where 
a  hostile  force  may  land  forts  guard  the  coast. 
Xo  one  is  allowed  to  take  any  photographs 
within  a  certain  distance  of  a  Japanese  military 
reservation.  The  Imperial  Year  Book  sup- 
presses all  information  as  to  the  size  of  the  army 
and  navy.  This  is  one  of  the  secrets  of  the  East. 
The  Japanese  have  the  listening  ear  and  the  si- 
lent tongue.  When  one  of  them  is  asked  as  to 
the  military  defenses  of  his  country,  he  shrugs 


JAPAN  REVISITED  23 

his   shoulders,  gives  the  Japanese  grin,  and  an- 
swers :  "I  do  not  know." 

We  landed  at  the  pier  in  Yokohama  from  a 
tender,  the  harbor  being  too  shallow  for  a  steamer 
of  heavy  draught.  The  drizzle  gave  a  moist, 
shabby,  flabby  look  to  streets  and  buildings. 
This  is  my  second  experience  in  touching  Yoko- 
hama under  moist  skies.  The  streets  were  slimy. 
As  we  rode  through  them,  in  jinrikisha  chairs,  it 
was  not  long  before  our  noses  caught  the  Orien- 
tal smell.  This  is  as  pungent  as  the  call  of  the 
East.  The  city  of  Yokohama  is  growing  rap- 
idly. We  took  the  train  for  Tokio,  and  saw  a 
great  number  of  buildings  under  construction. 
The  business  sections  are  fast  becoming  Occi- 
dentalized.  Buildings  of  brick,  stone,  iron,  per- 
haps concrete,  are  succeeding  to  the  flimsy  boxes 
of  wood,  with  partitions  and  windows  of  paper, 
which  are  common  forms  of  Japanese  architec- 
ture. 

This  change  is  even  more  true  of  Tokio,  the 
capital  of  the  empire;  an  immense  city,  stretched 
like  a  huge  cobweb  on  a  plain;  perhaps  the 
fourth  or  fifth  of  the  cities  of  the  world  in  the 
number  of  inhabitants. 

Main  Street  in  Tokio  resembles  Broadway  in 
New  York,  in  the  size  and  quality  of  its  shops. 
Moreover,  many  of  them  had  signs  in  the  English 
language.  On  all  sides,  the  spirit  of  the  new 
Japan  is  evident;  men  have  largely  adopted  Eu- 


24       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

ropean  dress ;  the  women  are  generally  more  con- 
servative and  wear  the  national  garb.  The  front 
windows  in  the  shops  are  decorated  with  as  much 
profusion  as  in  America.  Unfortunately,  a  too 
prominent  sign  is  that  of  liquor  establishments. 
The  curse  of  alcoholism  is  new  to  the  Orient,  ex- 
cept in  the  form  of  some  native  spirits,  like  the 
Japanese  saki,  a  drink  distilled  from  the  alcoholic 
principle  in  rice.  The  European  and  American 
drinks  are  growing  in  popular  use.  What  ef- 
fect this  fact  will  have  in  the  degeneration  of 
the  tough  fiber  of  the  Japanese  physique  remains 
to  be  seen.  It  certainly  cannot  make  for  good. 

Once  more  the  quiet  little  homes,  with  tiled  or 
thatched  roofs,  with  miniature  gardens,  irregular, 
winding,  spangled  with  roses  and  chrysanthe- 
mums, girded  with  fluted  fences  or  hedges,  threw 
their  charms  around  the  visitor.  Bare-headed 
women,  with  coal-black  hair,  clothed  in  kimonos, 
many  of  them  with  babies  cuddled  in  pouches  on 
their  backs ;  swarms  of  swarthy  children,  with 
gleaming  eyes,  white  teeth,  smiling,  smiling,  smil- 
ing with  looks  of  curious  wonder  at  the  Ameri- 
can visitors ;  feet  clattering  with  wooden  clogs ; 
flowing  tunics,  little,  round  arms; — these  re- 
vealed the  difference  between  America  and  these 
far-off  isles. 

Modern  Tokio  is  a  city  of  wide  boulevards,  big 
shops,  electric  lights ;  show  windows,  paved  side- 
walks, automobiles,  bicycles,  parks,  trolley  cars, 


JAPAN  REVISITED  25 

of  vulgarized  fashion  and  up-to-date  frivolities. 
Old  Tokio  and  old  Yokohama  are  types  of  the 
Japan  of  the  rapidly  fading  past ;  narrow,  dirty 
streets,  without  sidewalks ;  either  reeking  with 
slime  on  a  wet  day,  or  flushed  with  dust  in  dry 
weather ;  little  bits  of  houses  and  shops,  where  all 
the  wares  are  exposed  to  view  in  the  open  air,  re- 
gardless of  filthy  dust  or  soaking  rain;  lanterns 
suspended  at  all  shop-fronts ;  chattering,  grinning 
men  and  women,  standing  in  doors  or  on  the1 
streets ;  all  the  fronts  unclosed,  except  by  a  drawn 
screen  during  the  night;  handiwork  going  on  in 
many  of  these;  crowds  of  people,  jostling  each 
other,  on  foot  or  in  'rickshaws;  curious  wares, 
strange  toys;  gewgaws  and  jimcracks  of  all 
kinds;  no  one  seeming  to  feel  any  inconvenience 
from  mud  or  dust ;  a  reeling,  drifting,  sputtering, 
bubbling  mass  of  human  atoms ;  such  is  a  partial 
picture  of  street  life  in  Old  Japan. 

FUJIYAMA 

November  25. — We  are  again  on  the  ocean ; 
bound  for  Kobe.  The  sail  down  the  Yokohama 
harbor  was  very  lovely.  Mount  Fujiyama  gra- 
ciously arose  from  the  drifting  clouds  and  exhi- 
bited her  snowy  head  for  many  a  mile ;  a  mam- 
milary  dome,  graceful,  pure,  beautifully  rounded. 
The  day  has  been  one  of  crystal  clearness.  The 
mountain,  so  often  veiled  in  mists,  could  not  have 
been  seen  to  better  advantage.  It  is  the  regal 
peak  of  Japan,  invested  with  religious  awe, 


26       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

swathed  in  superstitions ;  a  sacred  mountain, 
which  thousands  of  devotees  ascend  every  year. 
It  is  a  source  of  fear  and  dread,  as  well  as  of 
worship.  Probably,  if  we  knew  the  geologic  his- 
tory of  the  vicinage,  we  should  find  that  out  of 
the  vomit  from  its  yawning  crater  and  those  of 
sister  mountains  has  been  formed  a  large  part  of 
the  island.  Rock,  ashes,  dust,  gases,  have  been 
spewn  from  its  ghastly  stomach ;  from  these  have 
come  soil,  crops,  and  vegetal  life,  when  its 
sputum  had  been  enriched  by  vitalizing  elements ; 
when  the  rock  had  been  pounded  into  slime,  re- 
freshed by  the  rains ;  and  the  winds  and  birds  had 
contributed  germs  of  life. 

Well  may  the  Japanese  stand  in  awe  before  the 
creative  forces  of  Fujiyama.  Popular  supersti- 
tions generally  have  their  roots  in  some  histor- 
ical fact;  imagination  idealizes  the  bare  fact  in 
a  semi-poetic  garb;  the  fact  is  merged  into  the 
halo  of  a  myth;  it  becomes  consecrated  by  time, 
impressed  upon  the  mystic  sense  of  the  people ;  at 
last,  a  cult  gathers  around  it ;  man  builds  a 
temple,  a  shrine,  a  cairn,  as  a  link  between  fact 
and  legend;  and,  at  last,  the  historic  perspective 
is  forgotten.  Fujiyama,  the  destroyer,  the 
creator;  its  core  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth;  its 
base  on  the  earth's  hard  crust ;  its  venerable  head 
wreathed  in  snows;  its  trunks,  scoriated  with  fis- 
sures, stands  as  the  type  of  the  permanent  in  his- 
tory, so  far  as  any  earthly  thing  is  permanent. 
It  has  read  the  entire  scroll  of  the  history  of  Ja- 


JAPAN  REVISITED  27 

pan;  it  has  created  and  destroyed  over  and  over 
again.  In  the  light  of  its  age,  mankind  are  only 
as  puppets.  Races  may  die  out;  kingdoms  be 
overthrown ;  civilizations  ground  into  dust ;  ar- 
mies melt,  navies  drown;  customs,  garbs  and  all 
human  usages  become  dreams, — yet  the  volcano 
stands  in  its  awful  majesty.  Its  base  is  not 
built  on  stubble.  It  makes  no  note  of  time. 
Ages  fall  into  its  crater  like  drops  of  rain.  The 
tooth  of  years  may  gnaw  at  its  vitals ;  decay  may 
attempt  its  destruction ;  but  new  forces  come  to 
its  aid ;  if  it  must  die  at  last,  it  spawns  a  fresh 
progeny  of  younger  volcanoes  to  take  its  place. 
Ruthless,  pitiless,  lifeless,  monstrous  in  magni- 
tude, sucking  into  its  pores  all  the  shifting  cli- 
mates of  the  world,  from  the  tropical  heats  to 
arctic  ice, — it  may  almost  truly  say:  "I  am 
Japan ;  the  Land  of  the  Rising  Sun  is  myself." 


ftb*' 


V 
THE  JAPAN  OF  TO-DAY 

Everything  is  always  changing;  yet  everything  is 
always  the  same. 

French  Proverb. 

Nov.  29.  —  Japan,  with  all  its  wonders  and 
picturesqueness,  is  left  behind.  Its  craggy 
shores  have  receded  from  view.  Our  stay  in  the 
Japanese  ports  was  brief,  but  it  gave  an  oppor- 
tunity to  review  former  impressions  and  to  catch 
a  fugitive  glimpse  of  some  of  the  moving  changes 
which  are  re-moulding  Japanese  life. 

These  changes,  which  began  forty  years  ago, 
are  still  active.  The  nation  is  progressing  into 
new  paths,  unknown  in  the  days  of  the  Shoguns, 
Samurais  and  Daimios.  A  new  Japan  has  risen 
from  the  dim  past.  Japan  has  moved  from  its 
seclusion  into  an  expansive  freedom  which  is  at 
variance  with  almost  every  tradition  and  prej- 
udice embedded  in  the  national  character.  The 
sharp  revolution  has  been  peaceful.  Japan,  iso- 
lated from  the  Asiatic  continent,  by  a  waste  of 
seas,  scant  of  soil,  limited  in  natural  resources, 
the  buffer  kingdom  of  the  Orient,  swathed  in  the 

swaddling  bands  of  the  ages,  has  admitted  the 

28 


THE  JAPAN  OF  TO-DAY  29 

Western  light.  It  has  put  on  the  new,  without 
entirely  wrenching  itself  from  the  old.  It  has 
borrowed,  adopted,  adjusted,  assimilated;  it  has 
grafted  on  its  parent  stem  without  destroying  the 
trunk. 

Three  years  have  done  much  to  change  the  ex- 
ternal aspect  of  Japanese  life,  since  my  last  visit, 
and  have  produced  many  changes.  I  have  al- 
ready spoken  of  some  of  them: — the  widening  of 
streets ;  the  use  of  brick,  stone  and  iron  in  the 
construction  of  houses;  the  change  in  the  cos- 
tumes of  the  men ;  soldiers,  sailors,  policemen,  and 
apparently  most  of  the  business  men  in  the  larger 
cities  adopting  the  European  style  of  dress ;  coats 
and  trousers  succeeding  to  kimonos ;  the  great  in- 
crease of  the  use  of  the  English  language. 

The  Japanese  smile  is  everywhere.  The  na- 
tion has  not  lost  this  charming  asset.  The  peas- 
ant, who  ages  ago,  was  compelled  to  smile  when 
he  met  a  Samurai, — gradually  incorporated  his 
smile  among  the  little  civilities  of  life,  and  it  has 
been  absorbed  as  something  no  longer  artificial, 
but  as  an  instinctive  act. 

THE    UNDEE-WORLD 

In  fact,  docility  seems  to  be  a  part  of  the 
character  of  Japanese  women.  To  renounce,  to 
submit,  to  study  the  art  of  pleasing  the  male  sex, 
is  drilled  into  them  from  girlhood.  As  a  race, 
the  Japanese  men,  while  holding  a  degrading  con- 
ception of  womankind,  common  in  the  Orient,  are 


30   GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

generally  not  physically  cruel  to  women.  In  the 
large  cities,  this  contempt  may  take  the  form  of 
using  wives  and  daughters  as  a  commercial  asset. 
The  sexes  are  allowed  two  standards  of  morality ; 
and  the  women  are  the  sufferers.  What  is  called 
white  slavery  in  the  United  States, — an  insidious 
evil  to  which  public  attention  was  too  long  indif- 
ferent,— is  rife  in  Japan.  Some  cities  derive  a 
considerable  revenue  from  licensed  prostitution. 
The  conscience  of  the  nation  has  not  been  awak- 
ened to  this  hideous  barbarism.  The  Christian 
missionaries  are  doing  all  they  can  to  create  an 
honorable  public  sentiment  against  the  traffic  in 
women,  but  so  far  with  no  great  degree  of  suc- 
cess. The  stream  of  pollution  will  flow  through 
the  nation,  until  higher  ethical  standards  are  de- 
veloped. This  hideous  problem  is  at  present  the 
plague-spot  of  Japan.  The  nation  has  extir- 
pated caste;  adopted  a  constitutional  form  of 
government;  has  done  marvels  in  war.  Now  it 
needs  an  internal  reform;  a  birth  of  righteous- 
ness. Its  present  great  peril  is  subjective;  its 
stains  must  be  washed  out  from  within.  Sin,  evil, 
vice,  licentiousness,  exist  everywhere;  they  are  in- 
cident to  human  society.  Japan  is  one  of  the 
few  countries  which  throw .  a  legal  sanction  over 
the  most  insidious  of  all  evils. 

THE    NEAR    FUTURE 

Frugal,   thrifty,   industrious,  patient,   burden- 
bearing,  and  good-natured,  the  little  Jap  is  build- 


THE  JAPAN  OF  TO-DAY  31 

ing  better  than  he  knows.  His  country  is  the 
hope  of  Asia ;  the  rising  star  of  the  Orient ;  the 
connecting  link  between  the  dreamy,  inert  millions 
of  the  vast  Asian  continent,  and  the  audacious, 
vigorous,  mechanical  Occident.  The  Jap  does 
not  sin  against  the  light,  as  a  Christian  does. 
He  is  the  victim  of  a  degraded  religion ;  his  vices 
are  the  ruck  and  rot  of  his  immense  past. 

Meanwhile,  the  little  Japs,  male  and  female, 
are  contributing  their  due  part  in  the  human 
drama.  As  I  have  sailed  by  the  rocky  isles,  ob- 
served the  sterility  of  much  of  the  soil,  watched 
the  tiny  parterres  of  terraced  land,  rising  from 
the  shore-line  to  the  summits  of  the  hills,  I  have 
been  impressed  by  the  thought  of  the  enormous 
physical  energy  required  to  feed  nearly  50,000,- 
000  people  in  this  contracted  territory,  where 
there  are  scarcely  three  acres  of  arable  land  to 
each  inhabitant;  of  the  sweat,  toil,  and  weariness 
which  sustain  the  congested  nation.  Even  in  the 
cities  and  towns,  we  see  this  economy  of  land. 
One  enters  a  tiny  shop;  usually  rather  dingy;  in 
the  rear  is  a  paper  partition ;  but  open  this  par- 
tition, and  a  bit  of  a  garden  appears,  hidden  be- 
tween the  walls.  As  the  Japanese  sense  of  art 
rejects  the  severity  of  straight  lines,  every  path 
is  zig-zag;  it  curves  among  little  rockeries; 
stunted  evergreen  trees  and  flowering  shrubs  fur- 
nish the  greenery  and  color. 

Then  such  courtesy  to  customers.  Article 
after  article  is  pulled  out,  in  the  hope  that  one  of 


32       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

them  will  hit  his  taste  and  wallet.  When  the  cus- 
tomer enters  and  leaves,  all  the  clerks  bow  low. 
The  higgling1  over  bargains  is  a  sharp  intellectual 
exercise.  The  Oriental  is  a  born  trader.  Some 
of  the  larger  shops  in  Tokio  and  Yokohama  have 
fixed  prices,  but  in  most  of  the  smaller  shops 
prices  are  extremely  flexible.  Such  seductive 
goods ;  silks,  and  kimonos,  with  the  hues  of  a 
flower  garden ;  wood  and  ivory  carvings,  bronzes, 
shell  work,  lacquer,  all  kinds  of  metal  work, 
screens,  cloisonne ;  and  especially  the  beautiful 
pottery,  which  is  one  of  the  ancient  arts  of  Japan. 

TAX-BURDENS 

Japan  is  still  in  the  backwash  of  the  Russian 
war.  It  is  learning  the  cost  of  military  glory. 
It  faced  the  Russian  giant  and  overthrew  him. 
Its  victory  was  on  the  side  of  progress.  But  it 
left  a  trail  of  debt  which  is  taxing  the  resources 
of  the  Island  Kingdom  to  the  highest  tension. 
Taxes  have  been  heaped  upon  taxes.  The  stiff 
backbone  of  the  nation  is  bending  under  them. 
The  old  statesmen,  so-called,  who  carried  the 
country  through  the  Chinese  and  Russian  wars, 
are  passing  away.  The  vast  national  debt  is  a 
cancer  which  is  draining  the  vitals  of  business. 
Every  possible  source  of  public  revenue  seems  to 
have  been  tapped  and  sucked  dry. 

Nevertheless,  the  irony  of  international  jeal- 
ousies compels  Japan  to  maintain  an  expensive 
army  and  navy.  Much  of  the  flower  of  its  youth 


THE  JAPAN  OF  TO-DAY  33 

is  seized  for  the  national  defense.  Japan  is  poor 
in  money  and  in  land.  The  annexation  of  For- 
mosa and  Korea  will  supply  some  of  the  latter 
need;  but  as  wealth  must,  in  the  last  analysis,  be 
grubbed  out  of  the  soil,  and  Japan  possesses  such 
a  small  arc  of  the  earth,  the  increase  in  wealth 
must  be  slow. 

E,ven  in  the  mechanical  arts  it  is  hard  pressed. 
Its  silks,  teas  and  rice  are  its  main  exports.  In 
pottery,  Germany  and  Austria  are  wounding  it 
sorely ;  both  because  of  the  better  quality  of  their 
clay,  and  from  the  use  of  highly  specialized  ma- 
chinery; while  most  of  the  Japanese  ceramics  are 
hand-made. 

As  "the  destruction  of  the  poor  is  their  pov- 
erty," it  is  poverty  which  keeps  Japan  from  sorely- 
needed  internal  improvements  and  from  becoming 
a  great  maritime  nation.  The  sea  is  a  part  of  the 
national  dower.  Already  the  nation  has  two  lines 
of  steamers,  subsidized  by  the  government,  which 
are  among  the  finest  of  the  Pacific  merchant 
marine. 

Considering  its  territorial  limitations  and  its 
congested  millions  of  people,  it  is  doubtful  if  any 
nation  on  the  earth  has  contributed  more  than 
Japan,  in  late  years,  to  a  sense  for  orderly  ad- 
ministration and  social  improvement.  Nature 
casts  no  two  nations  in  the  same  mould.  The 
infinite  diversity  in  humanity  makes  it  pictur- 
esque. The  Japanese  are  a  picturesque  nation, 
indeed.  From  the  nimble,  simple-minded  jinriki- 


34       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

sha  coolie,  with  his  white  teeth,  bubbling  chat- 
ter, vivacious  spirits,  sly  overcharges — a  sort  of 
human  squirrel — to  the  reserved,  subtle  financier 
or  statesman,  impenetrable,  elusive,  through  the 
whole  gamut  of  Japanese  social  gradations — all 
are  interesting. 

The  real  Japan,  as  may  be  said  of  the  na- 
tional life  of  every  country,  is  not  in  the  large 
cities  where  life  is  standardized  and  flows  in  an 
energy  of  turbid  current, — but  must  be  seen  in 
the  shy  villages,  whose  human  beings  live  as  in 
coverts,  and  where  tradition  and  custom  cake  so- 
ciety with  an  impress  that  is  not  easily  disturbed. 
Cities,  the  world  over,  are  becoming  monotonously 
similar.  Steam  and  electricity  are  transforming 
all  of  them  into  a  common  mould. 

NAGASAKI 

Nagasaki, — once  one  of  the  famous  ports  of 
Japan,  now  shrunk  to  a  somnolent,  little  place, — 
was  quaint  and  sweet  as  ever.  Around  it  is  a 
sweep  of  wooded  hills;  its  shores  are  bathed  in 
one  of  the  prettiest  of  bays,  the  entrance  to 
which  is  like  winding  into  a  secluded  lake.  Its 
narrow,  tortuous  streets  are  crowded  with  shy 
shops,  where  the  visitor  finds  a  rich  assortment  of 
national  wares. 

The  last  time  I  was  in  Nagasaki  was  at  the 
awakening  of  the  spring;  the  scene  was  flooded 
with  vernal  sunshine:  flowers  were  embroidering 
the  hills  and  fields.  It  was  the  week  of  the  Budd- 


THE  JAPAN  OF  TO-DAY  35 

histic  Easter:  richly  robed  priests  and  dancing 
priestesses  paraded  the  streets;  the  cherry,  peach 
and  plum  flung  their  blossoms  into  the  scented 
air.  Everything,  vocal  and  voiceless,  spoke  of 
indwelling  and  inflowing  life;  of  birth  and 
growth,  not  of  decay  and  death. 

This  time  I  saw  it  when  nature  is  administering 
its  anodyne  for  the  sleep  of  winter: — in  the  eb- 
bing hours  of  November.  The  clouds  poured 
down  copious  rains ;  there  was  an  occasional  burst 
of  brassy  sunshine,  which  seemed  to  bronze  the 
hills  and  houses.  A  querulous  wind  raked  and 
chilled  all  that  it  touched.  Yet,  in  spite  of  slop, 
slime  and  drip,  Nagasaki,  next  to  Nikko  and 
Nara,  has  a  charm  which  no  other  town  has  pre- 
sented to  me.  Its  face  is  always  welcome,  whether 
under  the  smile  of  spring,  or  the  chilly  touch  of 
approaching  winter. 

JAPAN    AND    THE    UNITED    STATES 

All  the  Japanese  whom  I  have  met  scout  the 
thought  of  a  war  with  the  United  States.  The 
idea  that  little  Japan, — smothered  in  debt,  ground 
by  taxation,  burdened  to  the  water-edge,  should 
seek  a  war  with  the  most  powerful  nation  on 
earth,  seems  to  them  an  insanity.  Surely  it  is. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Japanese  regard  the 
Americans  as  their  best  friends.  They  are  not 
a  migratory  race.  They  idealize  their  home-land. 
This  idealization  is  the  core  of  their  intense  pa- 
triotism and  of  the  Shinto  worship. 


86   GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

To  keep  Japan  from  a  fiiiancial  collapse;  to 
protect  the  integrity  of  its  credit;  to  wring  out 
of  its  impoverished  people  the  interest  on  its 
huge  debt;  to  correct  ancient  abuses;  to  develop 
the  scant  resources  of  the  pigmy  country;  all 
these  and  many  other  vexatious  problems  are 
enough  to  tax  the  uttermost  resources  of  the 
empire.  Japan  is  under  a  terrific  strain.  It  is  in 
no  position  to  take  risks ;  unless  a  foreign  war 
were  started  as  a  mask  to  conceal  internal  rotten- 
ness, as  Louis  Napoleon  plunged  France  into  the 
disastrous  war  with  Germany.  This  calamity  is 
not  probable. 

The  voyage  down  the  Inland  Sea,  from  Kobe 
to  Nagasaki,  was  not  under  the  golden  pomp  of 
sun  and  sky,  under  which  I  made  it  before.  Yet, 
even  if  the  clouds  were  leaden,  and  occasionally 
opened  their  sieve  for  an  effusion  of  rain,  the  run 
through  this  enchanted,  mountain-rimmed,  flash- 
ing sea  was  not  without  charm.  If  not  tricked 
out  with  radiant  sun-gleams,  if  the  sparkles  were 
absent,  and  the  light  lack-luster,  there  was  at 
least  a  glimmer  of  untaught,  incommunicable  love- 
liness;— a  succession  of  shy  villages,  a  heap  of 
hills,  a  skein  of  bays,  a  fringe  of  forests,  shim- 
mering valleys,  vaulting  uplands,  the  rhythmic 
monotone  of  the  chanting  sea ; — silver-sweet  mists, 
vaporous  films,  gleams  of  light  refracted  from  a 
thousand  prisms.  The  choral  of  inanimate  life 
was  in  a  minor  key,  but  all  was  harmony. 


VI 
THE  PHILIPPINE  ISLANDS 

Take  up  the  white  man's   burden — 

Send  forth  the  best  ye  breed — 
Go  bind  your  sons  to  exile 

To  serve  your  captives'  need: 
To  wait  in  heavy  harness 

On  fluttered  folk  and  wild, — 
Your  new-caught,  sullen  peoples, 

Half-devil   and    half-child. 

Kipling. 

December  6. 

The  steamer's  run  of  1,300  miles,  from  Na- 
gasaki to  Manila,  was  over  smooth  seas  and  under 
soft  skies. 

On  the  second  day  we  sighted  the  beetling  cliffs 
of  the  Island  of  Formosa.  It  arose  by  our  side, 
frowned  upon  us  until  the  late  hours  of  the  night ; 
then  receded  like  a  fleck  of  sea-foam.  This  is- 
land, now  Japanese  territory,  is  some  264  miles 
long  and  80  miles  wide.  It  is  said  to  be  very 
productive,  and  to  be  gradually  responding  to 
the  energetic  administration  of  Japanese  officials. 

On    the    third    day    the    headlands    of    Luzon 

emerged  inta  view,  and  we  had  the  strange  sen- 
37 


38       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

sation  that  we  were  nearing  a  remote,  isolated 
fragment  of  the  territory  of  the  United  States. 

The  approach  to  Manila,  after  entering  the 
picturesque  bay,  was  inspiring.  Nature  has  been 
lavish  in  enriching  the  city  with  a  harbor  of  un- 
usual beauty.  We  passed  under  the  lee  of  the 
rocky  island  of  Corregidor,  where  the  American 
fleet,  in  1898,  under  command  of  the  once  famous 
Admiral  Dewey,  successfully  evaded  the  sub- 
marine mines  set  by  the  Spaniards.  Corregidor 
is  now  strongly  fortified.  The  American  navy 
yard  is  at  Subig  Bay.  Many  millions  of  money 
have  been  expended  by  the  American  government 
upon  the  military  defenses  of  the  Philippine  Is- 
lands, since  it  unwarily  set  its  feet  into  the  snare 
of  Asiatic  politics. 

At  Cavite  we  passed  over  purged  waters,  once 
reddened  with  human  blood,  when  Dewey  battered 
the  Spanish  fleet  with  crashing  shells,  and  drove 
it  down  to  watery  death.  Not  a  vestige  of  the 
hulks  is  now  to  be  seen. 

PHILIPPINE    PROBLEMS 

The  destruction  of  the  Spanish  fleet  sounded 
the  death  knell  of  tottering  Spanish  dominion  in 
the  Orient.  Its  palsied  hand  yielded  the  scepter 
to  the  American  republic,  a  government  unborn 
for  nearly  two  hundred  years  after  Magellan  dis- 
covered the  islands.  The  poor-but-proud  Span- 
iard soon  after  the  cession  of  the  Philippine  Is- 
lands sold  the  Caroline  Islands  to  Germany;  and 


THE  PHILIPPINE  ISLANDS  39 

the  Castilian,  once  regnant  over  a  great  part  of 
the  New  World,  shorn  of  all  his  North  American 
possessions,  retreated  as  well  from  the  Orient. 
For  an  indemnity  of  $20,000,000,  the  United 
States  acquired  all  the  rights  of  the  Spanish 
crown  to  property  in  the  Philippine  Islands. 
Back  to  Spain  went  Spanish  official  and  soldier; 
enter,  the  American  soldier,  official  and  merchant. 
The  United  States  put  on  the  poisoned  shirt. 
After  thirteen  years  of  occupancy,  of  sober  re- 
flection on  the  part  of  the  American  people ;  after 
enthusiasm  has  slackened  into  languid  indiffer- 
ence; after  the  expenditure  of  unknown  millions 
of  money,  the  difficulties  grow  no  less. 

The  problem  that  confronted  the  McKinley 
administration  was  perplexing.  We  had  broken 
down  Spanish  authority  in  the  Philippines.  The 
northern  islands  were  reeking  with  an  insurgent 
spirit  against  Spain  before  the  arrival  of  Dew- 
ey's  fleet.  For  centuries  there  had  been  the 
most  acrimonious  discord  between  the  successive 
governors-general  and  the  Roman  Catholic  arch- 
bishops, culminating  years  ago  in  the  assas- 
sination of  one  of  the  governors.  The  execution 
of  Razal,  the  Philippine  author  and  patriot,  had 
greatly  embittered  the  insurrectionary  party. 
The  Friars  had  acquired  millions  of  acres  of  the 
best  land.  The  Spanish  rule  had  not  extended 
over  Mindanao,  the  largest  island  of  the  archi- 
pelago, or  over  the  Moros,  a  Mohammedan  tribe. 
The  population  was  a  mixture  of  tribes  of  primi- 


40       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

tive  peoples.  No  one  could  claim  for  them  that 
they  were  capable  of  self-government.  The 
Spaniards  had  done  little  for  them  in  late  years, 
but  to  oppress.  Taxes  were  light,  but  the  Span- 
ish rule  was  a  game  of  graft.  There  were  few 
public  improvements.  The  port  of  Manila,  fifty 
years  ago  more  important  than  Hong  Kong  or 
Shanghai,  had  sunk  to  a  second  or  third  rate  city 
of  the  drowsy  Orient.  Into  this  hub-bub  the  United 
States  entered,  as  one  more  Occidental  adventurer, 
although  unquestionably  exploitation  was  not  the 
motive  of  the  McKinley  administration.  All 
human  motives  are  complex;  an  analysis  is 
elusive. 

The  strange  result  of  a  war  begun  for  the  pur- 
pose of  freeing  the  neighboring  island  of  Cuba 
from  the  intolerable  misery  of  Spanish  mis-rule, 
was  the  acquisition  of  an  Oriental  archipelago 
9,000  miles  distant  from  Washington,  with  whose 
inhabitants  the  American  people  had  not  the 
slightest  affinity  or  reciprocity.  The  plunge  was 
made.  Our  country  tentaculated  to  the  Orient ; 
and  for  thirteen  years  we  have  been  doing  wise 
and  foolish  things  in  our  far-distant  colony. 
The  Philippinos  resisted,  at  the  cost  of  many  lives 
and  much  money  on  our  part.  We  flung  the 
Monroe  doctrine  to  the  winds ;  seized  the  islands 
and  held  them  by  repression;  fumbled  and  mud- 
dled; and  have  learned  by  costly  experience  how 
dearly  the  bubble  of  benevolent  assimilation  of  an 
unwilling  colony  is  bought.  A  few  years  of  mili- 


THE  PHILIPPINE  ISLANDS  41 

tary  satrapy,  and  then  a  civil  government  was 
established  with  Taft  as  the  first  governor. 
Slowly  a  re-moulding  process  has  brought  about 
orderly  social  conditions.  Many  mistakes  have 
been  made;  there  has  happily  been  much  of  re- 
sidual good.  To  enter  upon  the  islands  was  a 
comparatively  j  aunty  affair ;  to  retreat  from  them 
was  believed  to  involve  national  perfidy  and  dis- 
honor. So  we  are  staying. 

What  did  the  United  States  acquire?  An 
archipelago  numbering  3,141  islands,  large  and 
small;  the  most  southerly  being  only  five  degrees 
north  of  the  equator;  with  a  territorial  area  of 
115,026  square  miles; — unquestionably  rich  in 
agricultural  potentialities;  a  land  where  almost 
every  kind  of  tropical  fruits  can  be  grown;  with 
valuable  mineral  deposits ;  with  a  wealth  of  tim- 
berland;  the  forestry  being  one  of  the  most  valu- 
able assets  of  the  islands.  The  nearest  Asiatic 
port  is  Hong  Kong,  628  miles  distant.  This  dis- 
tance is  negligible  on  the  Pacific.  Manila  is  11,- 
600  miles  from  New  York  via  Suez  Canal ;  9,752 
miles  from  Panama,  via  Honolulu.  The  islands 
are  washed  by  stormy  seas.  They  are  subject  to 
the  periodicity  of  monsoons,  yet,  for  a  semi-trop- 
ical region  are  not  unhealthful;  the  temperature 
ranges  from  63  to  88  degrees.  No  case  of  sun- 
stroke has  ever  been  reported.  The  heat  is  sul- 
try, rather  than  scorching.  Swept  by  ocean 
gales,  cleft  into  many  islets  by  the  penetrating 


42       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

tides,  the  islands  escape  the  terrific  heats  of  the 
Asian  mainland. 

The  population  is  about  8,000,000  souls  of 
whom  the  Occidental,  save  the  military  garrison, 
is  only  a  globule. 

Japan,  with  a  smaller  arable  acreage  and 
vastly  less  resources,  sustains  nearly  50,000,000 
people.  The  Philippine  Islands  largely  remain  a 
primitive  wilderness.  The  plow  has  not  fur- 
rowed a  great  part  of  its  face;  no  human  hand 
has  dropped  the  germinating  seed.  Rich  in  ni- 
trogen and  phosphorus,  mellow  with  the  chemical 
elements  that  produce  generous  crops,  the  land  is 
baked  by  the  sun,  washed  by  torrential  rains; 
never  crusted  with  glittering  frosts  or  mantled 
by  soft  snows.  Sometime  the  stomachs  of  alien 
peoples  will  demand  a  food  supply  to  be  sucked 
from  its  fertile  breast.  It  awaits  the  touch  of 
science,  the  magic  of  capital. 

PERSONAL     OBSERVATIONS 

My  stay  has  been  short.  My  range  of  obser- 
vation has  not  extended  beyond  Manila  and  its 
environment.  The  city  has  some  450,000  in- 
habitants. It  is  at  the  mouth  of  the  Pasig  river, 
on  the  west  coast  of  the  island  of  Luzon.  Few 
cities  on  the  American  continent  have  an  older 
origin.  Manila  was  founded  in  1571,  soon  after 
the  discovery  of  the  islands  by  Ferdinand  Magel- 
lan. The  Pasig  divides  the  city  into  two  sec- 
tions— the  old  walled  city  in  the  south,  the 


THE  PHILIPPINE  ISLANDS  43 

new  business  section  in  the  north.  The 
external  aspect  of  the  walled  city  is  like  that  of 
the  medieval  cities  of  Italy  and  Spain.  Here  is 
the  cathedral,  gothic  in  architecture ;  here  the 
Jesuit  church  of  St.  Ignatius,  with  its  wonderfully 
rich  carvings  of  native  wood,  wood-carving  being 
one  of  the  arts  in  which  the  Philippinos  excel. 
Here  are  old  convents ;  parochial  schools ;  bal- 
conied houses,  with  iron-grilled  windows ;  narrow 
streets ;  low  two-wheeled  carts  drawn  by 
horned  buffaloes ;  scant  sidewalks ;  women  with 
fluted  waists  of  muslin  or  gaudy  calicoes ;  black- 
haired  Spaniards  sipping  coffee  or  wines  in  the 
innumerable  cafes ;  scores  and  scores  of  the  local 
vehicles ;  carramatas  and  calesas,  mostly  drawn 
by  tough  little  ponies — often  cruelly  beaten  by 
the  Filipino  drivers.  Fine  gateways  in  the  an- 
cient, mildewed  wall  open  the  old  Spanish  city 
(Intramuros)  to  the  traveler.  Some  of  the 
churches  have  a  good  deal  of  interest.  Swarms  of 
Spanish  padres,  bearded  friars  in  white  robes, 
walk  in  and  out  of  the  churches.  What  a  sleepy, 
dreamy,  out-of-the-age  place  Manila  must  have 
been  in  old  Castilian  days  of  pomp,  ceremony,  re- 
ligious processions  and  medieval  customs. 

It  must  be  said  to  the  credit  of  the  Americans 
that  an  immense  work  in  hygiene,  sanitation,  road- 
building  and  public  education  has  been  accom- 
plished. There  are  now  434,000  children  at 
school.  The  English  language  is  taught  in  all 
of  them,  even  in  the  parochial  schools.  This  is 


44       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

all-important.  The  Philippine  is  stupid  in  learn- 
ing languages.  After  all  these  years  of  contact 
with  the  English  language,  it  is  rare  that  one 
finds  a  cabman  or  chauffeur  who  understands 
even  a  few  words. 

It  is  in  the  rural  districts  that  one  sees  the 
real  Philippine  communal  life :  huts  of  bamboo 
and  straw,  often  raised  on  poles ;  no  windows,  an 
occasional  straw  screen ;  few  gardens ;  an  entire 
absence  of  flowers  or  decorative  shrubs ;  life  re- 
duced to  its  narrowest  limits ;  a  cluster  of  houses, 
then  a  field  or  wood;  furniture  as  scant  as  in  the 
mud  huts  of  the  Egyptian  fellaheen ;  no  sense 
of  beauty,  except  in  the  feminine  fondness  for 
barbaric  colors;  a  torpid,  pulseless  life,  with 
few  ambitions.  If  this  be  the  status  of  the  Philip- 
pine within  a  radius  of  ten  miles  of  Manila,  what 
must  it  be  in  the  wilderness?  This  race  is  the 
matrix  out  of  which  a  new  civilization  must  be 
created.  Can  it  be  done? 

American  immigration  into  the  islands  has  been 
slight.  Our  migratory  energy  seems  to  be  ex- 
hausted at  the  Pacific  shore-line.  Of  a  popula- 
tion of  8,000,000,  only  20,000  are  Americans, 
including  soldiery.  The  now  dominant  race 
makes  but  a  slender  ethnic  background.  More- 
over, will  it  preserve  its  vitality  in  a  land  of  per- 
petual sunshine?  It  is  said  that  about  1,000 
Americans  have  married  native  wives,  and,  with 
but  rare  instances,  have  wallowed  back  to  the 
native  slime.  The  marriage  has  caused  degenera- 


THE  PHILIPPINE  ISLANDS  45 

tion  to  the  husband;  the  wife  retains  her  racial 
and  social  instincts. 

Some  of  the  American  soldiers  have  stayed  on 
the  islands  and  developed  ability  in  business.  In 
spite  of  all  moral  agencies  of  the  church,  and  the 
Young  Men's  Christian  Association,  the  private 
soldier  is  exposed  to  scorching  temptations. 
Army  and  sailor  life  is  proverbially  careless. 
Dislocated  from  home  influences,  prevented  by  a 
monstrous  military  caste  from  social  relations 
with  the  families  of  officers,  the  private  is  thrown 
back  upon  himself.  The  saloon,  the  card  table, 
profligate  relations  with  the  native  women,  too 
often  lure  him  to  waste  and  disease.  One  cannot 
help  sympathizing  with  the  sturdy  young  chaps, 
erect  and  manly,  as  they  walk  by  in  their  khaki 
uniforms.  Pit-falls  lie  all  around  them,  expatri- 
ated, with  the  wondering  curiosity  of  youth, 
stripped  of  those  moral  forces  and  intimate  re- 
straints which  safeguard  character. 

Except  in  the  matter  of  military  defense,  the 
Philippine  Islands  now  cost  the  United  States 
nothing;  the  insular  government  sustains  all  other 
expenses.  Wages  have  risen  fourfold  since  the 
American  occupancy.  The  tax  levy  has  been 
greatly  increased  because  of  public  improvements. 
An  extensive  marsh  on  the  water-front  of  Manila 
has  been  converted  into  parks  and  business  prop- 
erty. Another  miasmatic  marsh  has  been  drained 
and  graded  into  a  public  cemetery.  A  scientific 


46       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

warfare  is  going  on  against  tuberculosis  and  other 
diseases.  Hospitals  have  been  established;  in 
fact,  a  vein  of  humanism  has  run  through  the 
American  administration.  No  fair  equation  of 
the  merits  and  demerits  of  our  occupancy  can  be 
made  without  taking  into  consideration  the  rotten- 
ness of  the  Spanish  regime,  its  contemptuous  dis- 
regard of  the  natives,  and  the  honorable  and 
humane  efforts  of  American  administrators, 
educators  and  physicians  to  uplift  the 
native  into  a  new  and  higher  manhood.  In  tem- 
poral matters  there  is  no  question  of  a  mighty  ad- 
vance. Export  trade  has  increased  from  $23,- 
000,000  to  $39,000,000.  There  are  now  444 
miles  of  steam  railways.  Hemp,  sugar,  rice,  the 
cocoanut,  india-rubber,  coffee,  tobacco  and  lum- 
ber are  the  main  exports.  All  this  is  very  much. 
It  was  a  great  work  to  give  Manila  a  supply  of 
pure  water,  and  an  ice  plant ;  to  establish  trolley 
and  railway  lines  and  to  furnish  many  other 
agencies  for  comfort,  health  and  enlightenment, 
Yet,  under  ah1  these  encouraging  facts,  lies 
the  question:  Have  we  a  right  to  be  here,  and 
is  it  wise  to  stay  in  these  far-flung  islands? 
Every  question  of  morals  or  action  is  related  to 
some  other  and  larger  question.  Nothing  stands 
alone.  Is  the  genius  of  the  American  republic, 
already  weighted  by  problems  so  serious  and  un- 
solvable  as  to  shake  it  to  its  core,  to  be  promoted 
by  assuming  such  a  needless  responsibility?  Why 
should  the  burdened  American  taxpayer  be  taxed 


THE  PHILIPPINE  ISLANDS  47 

to  build  forts  and  maintain  any  army  and  navy 
in  the  Philippines?  We  do  not  need  the  islands 
as  a  vent  for  over-population.  The  commercial 
return  is  so  far  inappreciable.  The  islands  are 
a  constant  source  of  peril  to  us  in  the  event  of 
international  embroilment.  They  would  be  our 
most  vulnerable  point  of  attack.  Colonial  ad- 
ministration is  alien  to  the  American  genius. 
Putting  the  problem  on  its  lowest  plane,  what 
does  a  nation  that  has  no  foreign  commerce  want 
of  colonies? 

The  North  American  Indian,  the  Hawaiian, 
has  melted  at  our  impact ;  the  Negro  is  still  a 
social  derelict;  race  prejudice  never  was  more 
acute.  Is  the  Philippino  to  fade  out  of  human 
history  at  our  deadly  touch? 

There  is  an  imperious  moral  problem  under- 
lying our  relation  to  this  strange  people.  Can 
either  race  do  the  other  good ;  that  is,  good  that 
endures  ? 

Yet,  to  withdraw  from  the  islands  involves, 
perhaps,  even  greater  difficulties.  In  his  present 
state  of  enlightenment,  the  Philippino  would  make 
a  grotesque  work  of  government.  It  takes  cen- 
turies to  develop  a  people  capable  of  sustaining 
free  institutions.  The  Philippino  dreads  and  dis- 
likes the  Japanese ;  he  believes  Japanese  control 
would  repeat  the  cruelties  and  tyranny  of  Korea 
and  Formosa.  Moreover,  the  races  are  divided 
by  inveterate  antipathies.  The  Moro  is  more 
vigorous  than  the  Philippino.  The  tribes  would 


48       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

be  at  each  other's  throats.  Another  possible 
owner  might  be  Germany,  but  that  power  has 
made  but  sorry  work  in  its  colonial  policy ;  it  has 
been  too  often  brutal.  So  the  problem  is  many 
sided. 


VII 
HONG  KONG 

Through  the  laburnum's  dropping  gold 
Rose  the  light  shaft  of  Orient  mold: 
And  Europe's  violets,  faintly  sweet, 
Purpled  the  moss-beds  at  its  feet. 

Bryant. 

Dec.  10. — The  heat  was  so  intense  in  Ma- 
nila that  most  of  the  passengers  were  glad 
to  leave  the  city.  I  left  the  Philippine  Islands 
with  mingled  feelings.  In  a  certain  sense  an 
American  can  take  some  pride  when  he  sees  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  waving  over  an  archipelago 
which  has  so  many  potentialities  of  agricultural, 
commercial  and  industrial  wealth.  In  another 
sense  the  burden  seems  presumptuously  unneces- 
sary, fraught  with  hidden  possibilities  of  incredi- 
ble expenditure  and  international  complications. 
No  man  can  foresee  the  traps  involved  in  our  oc- 
cupancy. However,  we  Americans  are  a  nation 
of  optimists  and  probably  will  "muddle  through 
somehow,"  as  our  English  friends  say. 

HONG     KONG 

In  the  steamer's  run  of  628  miles  from  Manila 
49 


50       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

to  Hong  Kong  we  struck  the  prevalent  mon- 
soon, or  rather  the  monsoon  struck  us.  This  is, 
at  this  season,  a  steadily  blowing  wind  from  the 
northeast,  not  dangerous,  but  powerful.  The  sea 
was  churned  by  it  and  combed  over  our  steamer, 
and  quite  a  hub-bub  of  seasickness  followed.  In 
the  morning  of  the  second  day  we  began  to  thread 
the  chain  of  rocky  islands  that  circumvallate  the 
harbor  of  Hong  Kong.  The  woodless  rocks 
jutted  into  the  air  around  us  and,  one  by  one, 
receded  into  our  wake.  The  steamer  came  to  a 
stop  about  a  mile  from  shore.  The  gaunt  rock 
on  which  the  city  of  Victoria  is  built  towered 
above  us.  At  its  base  the  Chinese  settlements 
of  some  300,000  people  were  clustered.  On  the 
flanks  of  the  hills  are  the  residences  of  the  Eng- 
lish officers  and  merchants ;  also  the  barracks  of 
the  soldiers ;  the  English  cathedral ;  the  summer 
home  of  the  governor  general  being  almost  at  the 
summit.  As  a  whole,  the  island  of  Hong  Kong  is 
scant  of  vegetation,  but  an  occasional  villa  has  a 
flower-spangled  lawn,  and  there  are  some  attract- 
ive parks.  Both  the  Protestant  and  Catholic 
cemeteries  have  been  laid  out  with  fine  effects  in 
landscape  gardening.  There  is  also  an  elaborate 
botanical  garden. 

Hong  Kong  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of 
Asiatic  cities.  This  statement  means  that,  ex- 
cept in  certain  portions  of  the  Chinese  quarters, 
it  is  not  Asiatic.  Perhaps,  the  blending  of  the 
two  types,  imposed  upon  what  was  once  a  barren 


HONG  KONG  51 

rock,  gives  the  city  its  charm.  The  outside  of 
the  island  faces  the  China  Sea,  with  its  shimmer- 
ing color;  the  inside  is  on  the  edge  of  one  of  the 
finest  harbors  of  the  world. 

Hong  Kong  is  a  strongly  fortified  city.  Eng- 
land has  spent  immense  sums  in  protecting  it. 
Obtained  by  a  cession  from  China  in  1842,  the 
English  control  has  been  further  extended  by  a  ces- 
sion of  a  20-mile  strip  of  mainland. 

The  most  interesting  local  excursion  is  to  the 
Peak,  or  summit  of  the  hill;  reached  by  a  tram- 
way. The  flagstaff  and  signal  station  are  1823 
feet  above  the  sea-level.  Here  a  signal  is  given 
by  a  cannon  ("the  bark  of  the  dog")  of  the  ar- 
rival of  a  steamer,  and  by  bird-cage  drums  of  the 
approach  of  a  typhoon. 

From  the  Peak  a  magnificent  panorama  of 
mountain,  bay,  ocean  and  of  the  terraced  city  is 
had  by  the  visitor.  In  the  crystal  air  the  eye 
catches  a  diversity  of  charm  rarely  seen.  Across 
the  bay,  we  see  the  sandy  Kowloon  Peninsula, 
once  a  marsh,  now  a  busy  suburb.  Ships  of  all 
nations  ride  the  harbor.  The  gorges  in  the  hills 
have  been  utilized  for  reservoirs  of  water;  one, 
the  Pokfulcum,  having  a  storage  of  68,000,000 
gallons. 

The  main  water  supply  of  the  big  city  comes 
from  the  Tytam  reservoir;  storage  capacity, 
312,000,000  gallons.  As  there  is  no  natural 
water  supply,  the  inhabitants  are  thus  safe- 
guarded from  a  water  famine. 


52      GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

No  horses  are  allowed  on  the  islands ;  we  saw 
but  a  few  automobiles.  All  the  carrying  work 
is  done  by  Chinese  coolies.  Men  and  women  are 
the  beasts  of  burden.  Human  beings  are  a  drug. 
Wages  are  very  low,  but  are  slowly  rising.  The 
Asiatic  is  not  immune  from  the  desire  for  high 
wages;  and  the  rise  will  be  steady.  A  messen- 
ger of  a  large  bank  told  me  that  his  wages  are 
$7.50  per  month. 

As  everywhere  in  China,  there  is  confusion  in 
the  currency.  The  silver  standard  is  the  Mex- 
ican dollar,  worth,  in  round  numbers,  about  fifty 
cents  of  our  currency.  The  tourist  invariably 
finds  that  the  rates  of  exchange  work  against 
him.  He  gets  cash  at  one  standard,  buys  at  one 
higher.  Bankers  and  transportation  companies 
seem  to  act  on  the  principle, — what  is  the  tourist 
here  for,  unless  to  be  fleeced?  His  money  drib- 
bles like  melting  snow. 

About  ninety  miles  above  Hong  Kong,  on  the 
delta  of  the  Chukiang  or  Pearl  river,  is  the  an- 
cient, walled  city  of  Canton,  the  commercial  me- 
tropolis of  South  China.  As  this  city  was  in- 
volved in  political  confusion,  which  gives  a  sense 
of  unsecurity  to  the  tourist;  and,  as  on  a  former 
tour,  I  visited  other  large  Chinese  cities,  I  did 
not  visit  it.  There  is  a  certain  monotonousness 
in  Asiatic  cities,  especially  the  Chinese.  They 
are  mostly  alike:  of  a  stereotyped  pattern. 

The  mingling   of  the   Occident  and  Orient  in 


HONG  KONG  53 

Hong  Kong  offers  a  chance  for  sociological  re- 
flection. The  English  administration  has  en- 
forced sanitation  and  there  is  little  of  that  dis- 
gusting smell  with  which  the  congested  streets 
of  the  large  native  cities  reek.  Moreover,  the 
building  laws  preclude  such  fire-traps  and  noi- 
some hovels  as  one  sees  in  the  old  cities,  with  their 
grim  alleys,  putrid  streets  and  ruck.  The  Chi- 
nese in  Hong  Kong  are  fairly  well  housed.  Yet 
the  native  character  is  shown  everywhere;  the 
undulating  street  life;  dragons,  streamers  and 
lanterns;  everybody  in  the  evening,  gossiping, 
smoking  in  the  crowded  thoroughfares;  women 
dressed  in  trousers ;  babies  strapped  to  their 
backs;  peddlers  and  little  booths  lining  whole 
streets;  at  the  theaters,  bands  of  native  musi- 
cians beating  their  drums  and  tom-toms,  making 
screeching  noises,  with  no  sense  of  harmony. 
To  the  Chinese,  music  and  noise  mean  the  same 
thing.  The  jinrikisha  carriage  or  sedan-chair  is 
everywhere:  the  latter  carried  by  two  men.  Few 
work  in  the  hot  sun,  except  the  tugging  coolies. 
A  hardy,  muscular  breed  of  out-door  workers, 
they  take  life  with  Oriental  fatalism.  There  is 
intense  contest  for  a  job.  Let  a  tourist  emerge 
from  a  hotel  or  shop  and  a  crowd  of  chattering 
coolies  gathers  around  him  like  a  flight  of  crows. 
He  is  pushed,  pulled,  begged,  until  he  drops  into 
a  chair,  and  then  the  disappointed  ones  disperse 
to  hunt  some  other  victim. 

However,    in    Japan    and    China,    the    tourist 


54       GOLDEN  WINDOW  QF  THE  EAST 

learns  to  like  the  chattering  coolies ;  greedy  and 
dirty  as  some,  perhaps  most  of  them,  are.  They 
have  the  gamy  flavor  of  primitive  life. 

Hong  Kong  has  thousands  of  shops.  The 
products  of  the  world  are  swept  in  here  for  sale. 
Not  all  the  dealers  are  Chinese ;  some  Americans 
and  Englishmen  are  merchants.  The  sly  Ar- 
menian, the  Hindoo,  the  Arab,  the  Jew,  are  here 
also.  The  art  of  window  decoration  is  as  well 
understood  as  in  America. 

Hong  Kong  is  policed  by  Hindoo  Sikhs.  In 
their  turbans  and  uniforms,  they  make  a  pictur- 
esque police  force. 

What  a  sight  a  Chinese  city  presents  in  the 
evening  to  a  stranger  from  the  New  World. 
Such  a  surging,  billowy  wave  of  humanity. 
What  a  babel  of  noises.  Life  is  lived  under  the 
eyes  of  other  men.  Privacy,  at  least  in  social 
life,  is  not  in  the  Orient.  All  dress  alike;  ges- 
ticulate alike.  Men  ply  their  trades ;  women 
comb  their  hair  in  the  streets.  Most  of  the 
Chinese  in  Hong  Kong  live  in  high  apartment 
houses  with  balconies  in  front ;  but  the  street  is 
preferred  to  the  balcony. 

China  is  a  sleeping  giant,  unconscious  of  its 
powers.  Pillaged  by  Occidental  nations,  abused 
and  stamped  upon,  it  is  slowly  coming  to  a  con- 
sciousness of  the  causes  of  its  weakness.  Per- 
haps in  the  end,  it  may  better  the  instructions  of 
its  spoliators.  Out  of  the  discords  of  our  day 
may  come  a  harmony  with  what  is  good 


HONG  KONG  55 

and    permanent    in    Western    thought    and    life. 

I  hear  the  student  clangor  of  Hong1  Kotog 
streets ;  discordant,  noisy,  meaningless,  the  un- 
intelligible chatter  of  a  great  submerged  part  of 
the  human  race.  It  seems  a  voice  from  the  un- 
derworld ;  as  if  a  race  of  brownies  had  sprung 
up  out  of  the  earth,  emerging  from  subterranean 
darkness  into  a  world  which  knows  them  not. 
Like  the  Roman  gladiator  of  old,  the  Chinaman, 
the  Hindoo  or  other  Asiatic,  enters  the  arena  and 
bows ;  he  curls  and  abases  himself.  When  will 
he  make  his  thrust?  We  will  hope  that  the 
higher  humanism  of  our  day  will  avert  sword- 
thrusts  between  the  West  and  the  East.  The 
sword  is  now  in  the  hands  of  the  West ;  but,  like 
the  duel  of  Hamlet  and  Laertes,  it  may  change 
hands. 

The  Orient  has  been  cruel ;  so  has  the  Occident. 
The  Westerner  has  done  many  cruel  things  in 
the  East,  but  not  an  appreciable  fraction  of  what 
the  East  has  inflicted  upon  itself.  Once,  the 
whole  world  was  cruel;  human  history  reeks  with 
carnage.  We  know  something  of  the  history  of 
Europe,  but  very  little  of  that  of  Asia.  If 
known,  it  would  be  incarnadined  in  blood.  Hap- 
pily the  pages  are  lost. 

All  the  building  materials  of  the  houses  and 
barracks  on  the  hills  in  Hong  Kong  were  carried 
up  on  the  shoulders  of  coolies  or  drawn  up  by 
them.  There  is  no  present  way,  however,  of 


56       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

avoiding  this  use  of  man,  outgrown  in  the  Occi- 
dent, in  Oriental  countries,  except  to  a  limited 
extent.  The  replacement  of  men  by  machinery 
would  work  great  distress.  Even  to  feed  horses 
would  be  undue  expense.  The  human  back  will 
be  used  until  a  diversity  of  callings  gradually  is 
developed;  until  wages  rise;  until  Orientals  are 
trained  to  the  manipulation  of  machinery  and 
their  economic  needs  are  greater.  Meanwhile, 
Asia,  like  Issachar,  will  crouch  beneath  its  bur- 
dens. 

THE    CHINESE    REVOLUTION 

This  is,  of  course,  the  absorbing  theme  in  the 
Orient.  I  have  met  many  people  familiar  with 
the  present  state  of  things  in  China ;  and  not  one 
who  did  not  sympathize  with  the  revolution. 

The  Chinese  empire  bulges  out  like  a  great  belly 
on  the  map  of  Asia.  Its  people  are  held  in  uni- 
versal respect  by  foreigners.  It  has  resources 
of  incalculable  value.  Its  territory  is  immense. 
As  a  race,  the  Chinese  are  muscular,  thrifty,  in- 
dustrious and  laborious.  As  Occidental  races 
move  further  and  further  away  from  manual  la- 
bor, China  may  be  the  supply-fountain  of  muscle- 
workers  for  races  who  no  longer  use  their  muscles. 

The  present  awakening  of  China  is  one  of  the 
most  significant  events  of  the  century.  It  is  big 
with  results  for  the  whole  human  race.  Its  striv- 
ings will  extend  beyond  its  border.  China  now 
needs  statesmen  of  the  first  order.  Now  is  the  era 


HONG  KONG  57 

for  a  Chinese  Bismarck.  Will  he  come?  The  sleepy 
empire  is  getting  its  house  in  order  for  a  new 
alignment  of  its  mighty  forces: — not  for  to-day 
or  to-morrow,  but  for  the  unknown  future.  It  is 
in  the  birth-throes  of  a  new  order.  Steam,  elec- 
tricity and  quick  transportation  have  remoulded 
the  industrial  order  in  Europe  and  America.  It 
is  their  nerveless  hand  that  has  pulled  down 
thrones,  compelled  the  education  of  the  masses, 
and  let  in  the  light.  The  moment  China  broke 
from  this  isolation  of  ages  a  change  in  its  petri- 
fied conservatism  was  inevitable.  It  is  now  com- 
ing. 

STEAMER    TRAVEL 

At  Hong  Kong  we  left  the  Pacific  Mail 
steamer,  which  had  been  our  floating  home  for 
more  than  a  month.  It  was  quite  a  wrench  to 
sever  so  many  ties  of  pleasant  companionship. 
Sea  travel  brings  passengers  into  close  relations. 
There  is  a  community  of  interest;  a  chance  for 
what  Tennyson  calls  "heart  affluence  of  discur- 
sive talk";  there  is  a  certain  weighing  of  person- 
ality; a  balance  is  soon  struck  between  those  ac- 
quaintanceships which  are  but  as  sea-foam  and 
those  which  ripen  into  friendship. 

Oriental  travel  allures  many  types  of  charac- 
ter. There  is  a  great  range  from  the  fresh 
graduate  going  out  to  the  Philippines  to  join 
the  constabulary  to  the  serious-minded  mission- 
ary, the  purse-proud  millionaire,  the  money-get- 


58       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

ting  trader,  the  curious  tourist.  Each  type  has 
its  distinctive  interest.  It  has  been  pleasant  to 
compare  our  observations  of  the  wonderfully  in- 
teresting cities  we  have  visited;  to  reach  an  equi- 
librium of  judgment;  to  sift  the  fleeting  from  the 
transient.  Nothing  is  more  helpful  than  a  ra- 
tional interpretation  of  calm  opinion ;  its  residual 
value  is  that  it  is  the  pathway  to  truth. 

Now  we  are  on  a  steamer  of  the  Peninsular  and 
Oriental  Line,  for  Singapore ;  under  the  British 
flag.  The  turbaned  Goanese  has  succeeded  the 
Chinese  as  sailor  and  steward.  Are  England  and 
America  ceasing  to  breed  sailors?  It  looks  so; 
or  will  the  sea,  like  the  farm,  allure  sturdy  youth 
only  when  sailor  and  farm  life  are  re-adjusted 
to  the  conditions  which  control  mechanical  trades? 
For  the  present  they  are  dislocated  from  the  com- 
pelling  stream  of  industrial  tendencies. 

December  12. — We  are  sailing  near  the  coast  of 
Anam.  The  heated  winds  are  breathing  the  hot 
edge  of  the  lower  tropics.  Steamer-life  drawls 
and  pants.  Every  sparkle  of  frost  has  melted 
from  the  air;  human  life  also  melts  in  the  caul- 
dron. There  is  no  working-day,  except  for  the 
Goanese  sailor.  He  moves  noiselessly  about  the 
steamer.  At  the  muster  yesterday  all  wore  white 
tunics  and  red  turbans.  Their  jet  black  eyes 
and  hair  were  an  artistic  relief  to  the  white  and 
red ;  a  background  of  ebony  set  in  silver  and  ruby. 


HONG  KONG  59 

The  East  is  the  home  of  color.  It  riots  on  sea 
and  land;  on  bird  and  animal.  Man  catches  the 
call  for  decorative  pigments  and  daubs  body  and 
clothes  in  the  hues  which  he  finds  on  earth  and  in 
the  sky. 

I  am  thinking  in  review  of  the  past  five  weeks ; 
especially  of  the  strangers  whose  paths  converged 
with  mine  for  a  few  days ;  now  faded  into  the 
ghost-land  of  memory.  We  were  cast  up  to- 
gether, a  few  bubbles  on  the  surface  of  things. 

"So  on  the  sea  of  life,  alas, 

Man  meets  man,  meets  and  quits  again." 


VIII 
FROM  HONG  KONG  TO  SINGAPORE 

And  what  if  Trade  sow  cities 

Like  shells  along  the  shore, 
And  thatch  with  towns  the  prairie  broad 

With  railroads  ironed  o'er? 
They  are  but  sailing  foam-bells 
Along  Thought's  causing  stream. 

Emerson. 

The  run  from  Hong  Kong  to  Singapore  led 
us  into  the  steaming  tropics.  The  dining-room 
was  kept  comfortable  by  the  use  of  punkahs,  os- 
cillating fans  of  cloth,  attached  to  beams ;  the 
motor  power  being  furnished  by  three  of  our 
Goanese  stewards,  who  pulled  the  strings  that 
kept  them  in  motion.  Steamer-life  is  very  un- 
conventional, and  we  soon  found  congenial  com- 
panionship. Such  is  the  moving  show  of  life. 

After  the  first  day,  some  part  of  the  Asian 
mainland,  or  some  island,  was  always  in  sight; 
generally  of  high,  bare  cliffs. 

The  heat  mounted  higher  and  higher.  We  felt 
the  calorific  furnace  of  the  mainland. 

SINGAPORE 

On  the  morning  of  December  13  we  awoke  to 
60 


HONG  KONG  TO  SINGAPORE         61 

find  ourselves  in  the  fine  harbor  of  Singapore,  one 
of  the  best  in  Asia.  After  five  days  on  the  China 
Sea,  the  low-lying  shores,  fringed  with  nodding 
trees,  were  a  grateful  sight.  A  crowd  of  jinriki- 
shas  was  awaiting  us. 

As  we  rode  into  the  city,  our  first  impression 
was  of  the  excellence  of  the  roads ;  miles  and 
miles  of  the  best  macadam.  All  things  had  a 
tropical  aspect.  The  location  of  Singapore, 
about  one  degree  above  the  equator,  at  the  end 
of  the  Malayan  Peninsula,  raked  by  solar  heat, 
combed  by  the  monsoons,  makes  its  reputation  as 
one  of  the  hottest  cities  of  Southern  Asia.  Yet 
we  suffered  little  discomfort  here.  The  hotels 
face  the  water;  are  sprawled  over  a  large  area; 
the  sleeping  rooms  make  almost  half  a  dozen  of 
those  in  some  Parisian  hotels ;  they  are  provided 
with  electric  fans.  Every  chamber  has  an  outer 
balcony. 

Singapore,  now  a  city  of  some  200,000  in- 
habitants, is  a  monument  to  the  prevision  and 
administrative  skill  of  its  founder,  Sir  Stamford 
Raffles ;  one  of  the  many  administrators  of  the 
first  order,  whose  ability  has  built  up  the  great 
British- Asiatic  empire.  His  name  is  perpetuated 
by  a  hotel  and  boulevard. 

Singapore,  like  Hong  Kong,  is  on  an  island. 
It  is  one  of  the  most  frequented  ports  of  entry 
in  Eastern  Asia ;  the  seat  of  an  immense  com- 
merce. We  saw  hundreds  of  vessels  in  the  har- 
bor; a  solitary  one  carrying  the  American  flag. 


62       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

The  crafts  ranged  all  the  way  from  the  junks  and 
sampans  up  to  great  steamers  which  plow  all  the 
oceans  of  the  world. 

Cosmopolitan,  indeed,  is  Singapore ;  a  gather- 
ing-ground and  melting-furnace  of  the  flotsam 
of  human  kind  that  drifts  into  an  Asiatic  seaport. 
The  substratum  of  the  population  is  the  Malay. 
The  muscle  and  brain  of  Singapore  are  the 
Chinese ;  thousands  and  thousands  of  them  furnish 
the  steady,  working,  element  in  the  city.  Many 
of  them  are  undersized  and  hollow-chested.  The 
'rickshaw  coolie  leads  a  short  life.  It  is  said  that 
few  of  them  reach  forty-five  years.  A  China- 
man's age  is  an  unknown  thing.  We  have  seen 
scarcely  one  gray-headed  Chinaman  in  the  toss- 
ing, tumultuous  rout  that  seethes  in  the  streets. 
Small  pay,  dreary  work,  scant  food  seem  to  be 
the  lot  of  most  of  the  Chinamen.  Yet,  as  in  Ma- 
nila, some  of  them  here  are  very  wealthy. 

No  scene  on  a  theatrical  stage  can  present 
anything  like  the  amazing  picture  which  one  sees 
in  riding  through  the  Chinese  quarters  in  Singa- 
pore. Excepting  that  the  streets  are  wide  and 
clean  and  the  homes  moderately  substantial,  the 
moving,  human  picture  is  like  those  seen  in  the 
great  cities  of  China  proper: — color,  bunting, 
streamers,  lanterns,  open  shops,  endless  stands 
and  booths;  gabbling,  jamming  myriads  of  the 
great  human  menagerie.  Not  one  drunken  man 
was  to  be  seen.  Almost  every  conceivable  article 


HONG  KONG  TO  SINGAPORE         63 

of  food  and  clotliing  is  exhibited  in  the  flaunting 
shops.  All  the  clerks  are  men;  there  seem  to  be 
no  women  in  Chinese  commercial  life,  unlike  the 
Japanese.  Three-fourths  of  the  crowds  on  the 
street  were  men. 

All  the  mechanical  work  in  the  shops  seemed  to 
be  hand  labor.  The  Celestial  is  slow  to  adopt 
machinery.  In  a  shop  there  are  five  times  the 
number  of  clerks  to  be  seen  in  one  of  its  size  in 
Europe  or  America.  Men  drag  carts  laden  with 
heavy  loads  through  the  streets ;  sometimes  as 
many  as  thirty  or  forty  will  act  as  human  horses. 
As  they  pull  and  tug  they  utter  in  unison  a  gut- 
tural squeak.  What  a  burden-bearer  the  China- 
man is.  Nowhere  can  men  be  seen  who  do  the 
grossest  drudgery  with  more  cheerfulness.  He 
has  not  yet  imbibed  the  modern  evasion  from 
work;  he  shies  at  nothing  because  it  is  muscle 
wearing.  The  merchant  class,  the  bankers  and 
money  changers  have  the  easeful  life. 

Above  the  rip  and  roar  of  this  ocean  of  hu- 
manity, the  weltering  hordes  of  Asia,  the  bar- 
barians of  darkest  Africa  and  the  other  millions 
of  submerged  races — the  toilers  in  the  festering 
cities  of  Europe  and  America — rises  the  acute 
thought:  Can  this  status  last?  As  the  govern- 
ments of  the  world  are  surely  becoming  democ- 
ratized; as  authority  is  to  rest  in  the  masses,  will 
the  evolution  of  the  homeless  and  unfed  into  a 
higher  social  consciousness — which  is  now  unal- 


64       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

terably  on  the  way — be  heralded  by  orderly  prog- 
ress;  or  will  "the  great  aeon  sink  in  blood"  and 
progress  be  volcanic?  Problems  vast  in  their 
sweep,  terrible  in  their  unknown  potencies,  are 
before  the  coming  generation.  Will  the  law  of 
love  or  that  of  hate  and  greed  prevail? 

Even  in  the  British  colonial  possessions  there 
is  no  equality  in  the  flow  of  peoples  from  one  col- 
ony to  another.  British  citizenship  is  meaning- 
less when  the  Hindu  or  Chinese  knocks  at  the 
door  of  Canada  or  Australia.  The  European 
governments, — and  now  our  own  in  the  Philip- 
pines,— has  appropriated  every  available  bit  of 
land  where  the  surplus  of  China,  Japan  and  In- 
dia might  swarm  in  millions,  reclaim  the  wilder- 
ness, coax  the  surly  or  juicy  soil  into  harvests, 
and  establish  civil  government  where  brooding 
silences  prevail  in  the  forests  and  on  the  plains 
now  inhabited  only  by  wild  beasts  or  wilder  men. 
The  Occident  has  caught  the  Orient  by  the 
throat.  Siberia,  Australia,  the  Malayan  archi- 
pelago, the  Philippines,  all  the  natural  homes  of 
some  of  the  Asiatic  races,  have  been  grabbed  by 
one  nation  or  another,  and  the  key  turned  on 
them.  This  may  go  on  for  ages;  or  by  some 
cataclysm  in  history,  the  huge  fabric  of  com- 
mercial greed  and  spurious  philanthropy  known 
as  colonization,  may  be  shattered  into  a  bubble. 

Yet,  as  an  optimist,  I  believe  that  good  is 
slowly  evolving  from  the  chaos.  Probably  in  the 


HONG  KONG  TO  SINGAPORE         65 

matter  of  food,  housing,  clothes  and  wages  the 
Oriental  was  never  so  well  off  as  now.  Except 
in  the  Congo  State  and  possibly  in  some  of  the 
Dutch  colonies,  no  cruelty  to  the  native  is  per- 
mitted. Flogging  and  slavery  and  enforced  la- 
bor are  finally  a  thing  of  the  past.  The  con- 
science of  the  world  has  been  touched  by  sym- 
pathy and  a  sense  of  justice.  The  Asiatic  would 
fare  worse  at  the  hand  of  his  native  despots  than 
under  the  Occidental  rulers. 

INDUSTRIES 

The  Malay  Peninsula  is  now  prosperous. 
Great  fortunes  have  been  made,  especially  in  rub- 
ber. An  Englishman  told  me  of  one  Chinaman 
who  made  $1,000,000  in  one  year  by  the  sale  of 
his  rubber  plantations  and  product ;  and  of  an- 
other Chinaman  who  suddenly  became  wealthy, 
and  childishly  displayed  his  vanity  by  having 
three  front  teeth  extracted,  and  inserting  in  their 
place  in  his  jaw  three  large  diamonds.  This 
waste  of  money  was  slightly  more  idiotic  than  the 
profligacy  of  some  of  our  American  sports  of 
millionaires,  with  their  monkey  banquets  and  los- 
ing ventures  in  gambling  houses.  Idiocy  is  con- 
fined to  no  one  race.  Even  the  sober  Chinese  folk 
have  their  due  share  of  opium  fiends,  gamblers, 
thieves,  pirates  and  degenerates. 

It  is  said  that  45,000,000  rubber  trees  have 
been  planted  in  the  Malay  Federated  States.  It 
takes  about  four  years  in  this  climate  for  the  tree 


66       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

to  grow  to  a  size  when  it  yields  its  sap.  If  the 
present  price  of  rubber  remains  constant,  enor- 
mous riches  are  before  this  region.  Already  one 
hears  the  almost  universal  cry  for  more  labor. 
Wherever  we  go  there  is  a  labor-hunt. 

This  acute  demand  for  manual  labor  is  benefi- 
cent to  the  Oriental.  It  gives  an  enhanced  value 
to  his  muscle.  It  is  in  the  line  of  industrial 
progress.  It  links  him  to  all-pervading  human 
needs. 

As  cities  like  Singapore  are  sewer-vents  of  hu- 
manity and  attract  the  drainage  of  many  races, 
they  present  social  problems  of  much  difficulty. 
The  shadow  of  the  under-world  is  cast  over  cer- 
tain sections  of  every  large  Asiatic  city.  The 
most  casual  observer,  who  rides  through  the 
streets  in  the  quarters  where  the  natives  are  seg- 
regated, cannot  fail  to  observe  the  shameful  pro- 
jection of  Japanese  women  into  this  nether  side 
of  life.  No  doubt  the  English  government  does 
all  in  its  power  to  preserve  public  decency  and 
promote  a  more  healthful  morality;  but,  in  deal- 
ing with  the  un-morality  of  Asia,  the  slime  of 
many  ages  cannot  be  wiped  off*  in  one  or  two 
generations.  Moreover,  the  European  more 
often  descends  to  the  Asiatic's  level  than  attempts 
to  lift  the  native  into  Christian  ethics. 

December  17. — Around  me  now  flows  the  rip- 
pling Malayan  sea.  I  have  left  behind  the  pano- 


HONG  KONG  TO  SINGAPORE         67 

rama  of  the  streets  of  Singapore:  the  turbaned 
peddlers:  the  sly  money-changers:  the  shifty 
jewel-merchants:  the  clever  juggler:  the  snake- 
charmer,  piping  his  harsh  music  into  the  ears  of 
the  hideous  reptile,  lashing  him  with  towels,  and 
even  fondling  him.  The  noisy  hub-bub  of  the 
streets  fades  away.  Their  roar  is  now  succeeded 
by  the  croon  of  the  ocean.  What  a  change :  from 
articulate  to  inarticulate  noise:  from  the  jigger- 
ing  crowds  to  the  immeasurable  wastes  of  the  com- 
passing sea. 


IX 
JAVA,  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLE 

The  isle  is   full  of  noises, 
Sounds  and  sweet  airs,  that  give  delight  and  hurt  not. 

.     .     .     And  then  in  dreaming, 

The  clouds,  methought,  would  open,  and  shew  riches 
Ready  to  drop  upon  me. 

Shakespeare. 

THE    FAR-INDIES 

One  who  has  not  looked  into  the  matter  has 
no  idea  of  the  extent  and  value  of  the  Dutch  East 
Indies.  Little  Holland,  a  mere  dot  on  the  map 
of  Europe,  snugged  behind  the  dikes,  fighting  for 
its  very  existence  against  the  encroachments  of 
the  North  Sea,  is  small  indeed,  when  put  in  com- 
parison with  its  vast  insular  possessions  in  the 
far-away  Southern  Pacific.  The  total  area  of 
the  Dutch  East  Indies  is  587,370  square  miles ; 
their  population  is  40,500,000.  Of  this  multi- 
tude of  yellow  faces,  the  Island  of  Java  is  the 
home  of  some  35.000,000  people,  while  its  area  is 
50,789  square  miles.  That  is,  its  territory  is 
about  that  of  England,  or  a  little  more  than  the 
state  of  New  York.  The  population  is  thus 

about  594  to  the  square  mile. 
68 


JAVA,  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLE       69 

A  comparison  of  the  area  of  Java  with  that 
of  others  of  the  large  islands  on  the  globe  is  in- 
teresting. The  area  of  all  the  British  Isles  is 
84,098  square  miles;  of  Cuba,  45,900,  or  nearly 
3000  less  than  Java;  of  Newfoundland,  42,728; 
of  Madagascar,  228,500;  of  the  New  Zealand 
Islands,  102,883. 

The  island  of  New  Guinea  has  an  area  of  298,- 
160  square  miles ;  about  one-half  of  it  belongs  to 
Holland;  Borneo  has  288,136.  In  addition  to 
these  large  islands  in  the  Malayan  Archipelago, 
Holland  owns  Celebes,  the  Moluccas,  or  Spice 
Islands,  and  many  others  of  smaller  size  and  less 
importance ;  also  the  large  neighboring  island  of 
Sumatra. 

Surely  this  is  a  magnificent  Oriental  domain 
for  the  little  Dutch  fist  to  hold  in  subjection. 
The  history  of  the  Dutch  conquest  is  a  romance. 
It  began  with  a  commercial  expedition  from  Am- 
sterdam to  Java  in  1595.  Up  to  that  time  the 
island  trade  had  been  in  the  hands  of  the  Portu- 
guese, from  whom  the  Dutch  wrenched  it,  little 
by  little.  All  that  Portugal  now  holds  is 
a  part  of  the  island  of  Timor,  which  the  Dutch 
are  trying  to  buy.  There  were  wars  with  Eng- 
land, collisions  with  Spain;  but  for  about 
a  century  the  Dutch  have  been  in  exclusive  con- 
trol. 

Of  the  population  of  Java,  65,000  are  Euro- 
peans;  296,000  Chinese;  about  20,000  Arabs; 
the  rest  natives. 


70       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

THE    ISLAND 

Enough  of  figures  and  comparisons.  Let  Java 
stand  alone.  The  island  is  its  own  witness.  The 
splendor  of  its  scenery,  the  riotous  luxuriance  of 
its  vegetation,  the  spawning  fertility  of  its  soil 
spring  from  the  one  cause  which  attaches  dis- 
comfort to  the  visitor, — tropical  heat.  This  is 
the  one  drawback  to  the  Northerner.  He  must 
learn  to  adjust  himself  to  a  manner  of  living, 
whether  of  house  or  clothing,  which  has  but  one 
purpose, — relief  from  heat. 

The  Malayan  Archipelago  is  cinctured  by  a 
girdling  chain  of  volcanoes.  Geologists  tell  us 
that  these  islands,  also  Australia,  New  Zealand 
and  Tasmania,  were  once  connected  with  the 
mainland  of  Asia.  Ripped  apart  by  eartquakes : 
the  vacuum  filled  by  the  in-flowing  seas :  scorched, 
blistered,  made  and  made  over  by  the  excreta  of 
volcanoes:  their  present  form  is  only  temporary. 
Earthquakes  and  volcanoes  have  not  exhausted 
their  titanic  energies.  On  Java  there  are  forty 
volcanoes,  some  of  which,  since  the  Dutch  occu- 
pancy, have  done  fearful  work. 

PHYSICAL    ASPECTS 

There  are  1500  species  of  trees  on  Java,  of  a 
height  of  more  than  fifteen  feet.  The  whole  num- 
ber of  plant  species  is  about  6000.  Some  trees 
reach  a  height  of  150  feet;  a  few  species  even 
180  feet.  Some  of  the  trunks  are  gigantic,  send- 
ing out  branches  at  from  60  to  90  feet  above  the 


JAVA,  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLE       71 

roots.  More  luxuriant  foliage  could  hardly  be 
imagined.  The  monstrous  trees  do  not  reign  un- 
challenged in  the  fetid  solitudes  of  a  Javanese 
forest.  Myriads  of  insects  are  spawned  in  the 
swamps,  each  drawing  its  life  from  tree,  shrub  or 
some  animated  creature.  A  tumultuous  under- 
growth of  creepers  and  parasitical  vines  springs 
from  the  fecund  soil.  They  jump  on  the  giant 
trees,  strangle  them  in  a  choking  coil,  suck  the 
juices  from  their  victim.  So  the  life-and-death 
struggle  goes  on  for  years,  ending  in  the  vascu- 
lar tissue  and  sap  of  the  tree  being  absorbed  by 
its  remorseless  enemy.  The  vegetable  kingdom 
is  as  cruel  as  the  animal.  Each  creature  feeds 
on  the  life  of  another  in  an  endless  circle  of 
death;  and  thus  life  succeeds  life.  All  is  vicari- 
ous. 

Never  have  I  seen  such  luxuriant  vegetal  life, 
except  possibly  in  the  West  India  Islands ;  and 
here  it  is  on  an  even  larger  scale.  As  the  Ma- 
layan Archipelago  runs  from  six  degrees  north 
to  ten  degrees  south  latitude,  the  most  of  the 
islands  are  in  the  southern  hemisphere ;  and  the 
temperature  is  very  uniform.  Java  is  a  land  of 
unbroken  sunshine ;  snow  and  frost  never  invade 
it.  Created  from  volcanic  excreta,  its  igneous 
soil  has  been  larded  by  age-long  deposits  of  vege- 
table detritus  and  animal  decay ;  roasted  by  solar 
heat;  washed  by  the  juices  of  the  sky;  soaked  by 
sea- winds ?  until  a  rich  mold  of  inexhaustible 


72       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

richness  has  been  spread  like  a  cream  over  most 
of  the  island.  The  ashy  downs,  the  slag  of  vol- 
canic sulphurous  fumes,  are  devoid  of  vegetation, 
except  creepers ;  the  fertility  crawls  up  the  hills 
and  mountain  sides.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  see 
these  cultivated  to  their  summits. 

Java  is  one  magnificent  garden;  one  wave  of 
everlasting  green;  one  sweeping  pageant  of 
color ;  a  perfume-box  of  unadulterated  odors ;  a 
chorus  of  bird-choirs,  sea-winds,  swaying  trees, 
chirping  insects;  a  land  vocal  in  melody,  as  well 
as  a  picture  gallery  of  all  that  ministers  to  a 
sense  of  beauty. 

We  approached  the  island  from  Singapore. 
Our  invasion  of  Java  was  attended  with  difficulty. 
The  steamers  were  generally  crowded ;  the  fares 
were  unusually  high.  We  landed  at  the  port  of 
Batavia.  The  voyage  was  pleasant,  indeed.  We 
skirted  the  coast  of  Sumatra,  which  is  much 
larger  than  Java,  but  thinly  inhabited  and  less 
developed.  We  sailed  for  hours  on  the  straits 
between  Sumatra  and  Banka.  The  tin  mined  in 
Banka  is  world- renowned ;  an  immense  amount  has 
been  exported,  and  the  mines  are  still  operated. 
It  is  said  that  Banka  tin  brings  as  high  a  price 
as  silver  bullion. 

Early  on  the  first  morning  after  leaving  Singa- 
pore we  crossed  the  equator.  The  steamer  made 
no  thump  or  scrape.  The  equator  gave  no  sig- 
nal. We  glided  into  the  southern  hemisphere, 


JAVA,  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLE       73 

unheralded.  It  was  the  first  time  that  I  had  ever 
had  the  experience  of  waking  up  on  that  imag- 
inary circle  of  the  world's  surface  which  bisects 
it  at  an  equal  distance  from  the  north  and  south 
poles. 

We  had  found  the  little  Dutch  steamer  very 
comfortable.  Its  officers  were  most  courteous; 
the  softly-moving  sailors  and  stewards  were 
Javanese.  The  nights  were  hot,  and  most  of  the 
passengers  slept  on  deck.  The  Southern  Cross 
shone  from  the  sky  over  the  melting  ocean  every 
morning. 

It  was  on  the  Dutch  steamer  that  we. had  our 
first  experience  with  a  form  of  serving  food  com- 
mon in  the  Dutch  Indian  colonies.  It  is  called 
the  "rice-table."  With  a  change  in  some  of  the 
articles  of  food,  it  is  like  the  noon  meal  served 
on  Finnish  and  Scandinavian  steamers.  There 
the  main  ingredient  is  fish,  as  I  recollect  it ;  here 
it  is  rice.  The  bare-footed  waiters  serve  it  in 
profound  silence.  One  does  not  hear  even  a  rus- 
tle from  their  garments.  All  wear  a  Javanese 
sarong  (skirt)  and  headkerchief.  This  costume 
is  universal  among  the  Javanese.  Even  in 
schools  every  boy  wears  this  headgear.  Some- 
times on  the  street  it  is  surmounted  by  a  large 
bamboo  hat  to  protect  the  head  from  heat. 

The  "rice-dish"  is  a  gastronomic  wonder.  It 
is  built  on  a  basis  of  rice  and  chicken ;  to  these 
have  been  added  flesh  and  fish,  cooked  in  manifold 


74       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

forms;  many  kinds  of  relishes,  spiced  fruits,  cur- 
ries, eggs,  pickled  vegetables,  palm-shoots,  and 
most  characteristic  of  all,  "sambals,"  made  from 
the  liver  of  fowls.  All  are  highly  seasoned,  es- 
pecially with  cayenne  pepper.  Probably  more 
than  twenty  different  dishes  made  into  "sambals" 
are  served  at  one  "rice-table."  They  are  eaten 
with  a  spoon  and  fork.  The  connoisseur  mashes 
all  of  them  on  his  plate,  slobbers  the  food  with 
the  sauces,  sprinkles  the  seasonings,  and  lets  them 
slip  down  his  gullet  to  his  stomach,  in  a  horrible 
chaos.  The  best  part  of  this  confused  meal  is 
the  delicious  fruit  that  follows:  generally  man- 
goes or  mangosteens,  pineapples,  small  Javanese 
oranges,  and  others,  the  names  of  which  are  un- 
known to  me. 

BATAVIA    AND    WELTEVREDEN 

Batavia  was  founded  by  the  Dutch,  on  the 
ruins  of  the  native  city  of  Jakatra,  in  1691.  It 
is  in  many  ways  interesting,  and  apparently  is 
well  governed.  Its  residential  suburb,  Weltevre- 
den,  has  spacious  streets,  many  fine  buildings  and 
all  the  external  improvements  of  a  modern  city. 

After  spending  two  days  in  Batavia  and  Wel- 
tevreden,  we  left  behind  their  canals ;  their  varie- 
gated street  life;  their  boulevards,  lined  with 
tamarinds  and  Madagascan  flame-trees;  their  in- 
numerable palms,  and  trim  Dutch  gardens.  Per- 
haps the  most  novel  thing  was  the  canals ;  in  their 
muddy,  stagnant  waters  women  are  washing 


JAVA,  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLE       75 

clothes  all  day  long,  pounding  them  on  the  stone 
walls  and  steps  and  then  spreading  them  on  the 
banks  to  dry ;  also  all  day  long  children  are  bath- 
ing, men  swimming  or  fishing;  slow  boats  groan- 
ing their  way  along.  Like  the  sampan  (boat) 
life  in  China,  canal-life  and  river-life  are  a 
marked  feature  in  Java.  The  culture  of  fish  in 
ponds  is  a  considerable  industry  in  the  lowland 
plains. 

Batavia  has  about  116,000  inhabitants.  The 
bulk  of  the  people  are  Malayans.  This  name  is 
applied  to  numerous  tribes  in  Southeastern  Asia 
and  to  most  of  the  population  of  the  many 
islands.  Centuries  ago,  these  people  emigrated 
from  the  mainland.  In  Java  they  are  divided 
into  many  provincial  tribes,  such  as  the  Bantam- 
ese,  who  people  Bantam,  a  large  province  of  West 
Java;  the  Soedanese,  who  live  mainly  in  the 
Preangor  province ;  the  Madurese,  in  East  Java. 
Some  of  these  tribes  are  more  primitive  and  cling 
to  old  customs  more  tenaciously  than  others. 
Nearly  all  are  Mohammedans  in  religion.  In 
every  town  there  is  a  mosque. 

BEITENZORG 

The  railroad  ride  from  Batavia  to  Beitenzorg 
was  through  a  lovely  country;  a  network  of  roll- 
ing hills,  dense  forests,  gentle  rivers,  and  cosy 
villages.  The  town  is  at  an  elevation  of  about 
700  feet  above  Batavia. 

The  main  interest  in  Beitenzorg  is  the  famous 


76       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

Botanical  Garden,  which  is  said  to  be  the  finest 
in  the  world.  It  was  founded  in  1817.  One  who 
is  not  a  specialist  in  arboriculture  or  horticulture 
derives  only  a  limited  pleasure  from  a  superficial 
view  of  the  thousands  of  specimens.  It  requires 
a  trained  eye  and  disciplined  brain  to  detect  the 
interesting  distinctions  in  plant-life,  so  rich  and 
gorgeous.  The  most  fascinating  part  of  the 
garden  was  the  large  collection  of  orchids.  Java 
is  the  home  of  a  great  many  species  of  this 
strange  flower.  It  is  found  in  the  forests ;  creeps 
into  the  joints  of  trees;  clusters  in  the  dense 
swamps;  and  effloresces  in  many  odd  shapes  and 
colors. 

The  crown  of  little  Beitenzorg  is  Mount  Salak, 
rising  in  impressive  silences,  topping  the  adja- 
cent hills  and  smiling  upon  the  restful  valleys. 
The  mountain  is  not  lonesome ;  it  is  clothed  in 
forests  and  gardens  to  its  very  top ;  hundreds  of 
pastures  of  shimmering  green.  All  around  its 
base  wave  thousands  of  palm  trees,  girdling  the 
rice-farms  in  the  valleys.  Stand  still  for  a  mo- 
ment :  there  is  a  chorus  of  inarticulate  voices ; 
the  whisper  of  the  winds ;  the  rush  of  the  palms ; 
the  tossing  of  the  ripening  crops. 

The  homes  of  the  peasantry  are  basket  cages ; 
fragile  as  toy-houses.  Here  a  sluggish  life  is 
droned  away.  The  people  flutter  in  and  out  of 
them  like  the  shadowy  figures  of  a  pantomime. 
No  life  could  be  simpler;  stripped  of  all  intel- 
lectual effort;  the  river  is  their  bath-tub;  their 


JAVA,  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLE       77 

dishes  are  of  palm  and  plantain  leaf;  their  food 
curry  and  rice;  few  wants,  few  gratifications. 
Their  labor  is  in  the  fields,  and  in  the  rudest 
forms  of  mechanical  trades ;  few  tools ;  little  skill ; 
everything  so  rude  and  primitive. 

GARGET 

Garoet  is  an  excellent  place  in  which  to  ob- 
serve native  industries.  Here  is  made  the  musical 
instrument  called  the  anldong,  of  bamboo  wood, 
turned  into  framework,  set  to  different  keys ; 
when  shaken  by  the  hand  it  emits  a  flute-like  mel- 
ody. Strolling  bands  of  musicians  roam  through 
the  streets  and  hotel  grounds.  While  some  are 
playing,  others,  boys  and  young  women,  perform 
the  native  dances. 

Dancing  is  a  great  Javanese  amusement.  The 
natives  have  a  higher  sense  of  musical  melody 
and  harmony  than  the  Chinese  or  Japanese. 
Most  of  the  dances  are  formal ;  the  hands  and  fin- 
gers are  used  as  well  as  the  feet.  The  girl  danc- 
ers put  on  a  helmet  and  mask.  One  of  the  mu- 
sicians recites  some  poem  or  song,  which  the 
dancers  act.  There  is  no  immodesty  in  the  danc- 
ing. It  is  rather  a  ceremonial. 

Another  strange  pastime  is  the  marionette  or 
puppet  dancing.  An  orchestra  plays  on  several 
kinds  of  instruments.  A  leader  recites  some  al- 
most interminable  song  or  poem,  with  his  feet  on 
cymbals,  which  crash  as  he  strikes  them.  He 


78       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

has  at  his  side  a  large  assortment  of  marionette 
dolls,  some  clothed  as  dancers;  others  as  war- 
riors or  princes.  He  holds  them  in  his  hands 
and  by  pulling  strings  the  mimic  creatures  per- 
form all  sorts  of  antics.  This  childish  perform- 
ance is  highly  pleasing  to  the  natives ;  it  has  de- 
scended as  a  national  inheritance. 

Garoet  is  a  sweet  little  hill-town.  It  is  the 
center  of  the  sarong  batik  industry.  This  re- 
quires considerable  art.  The  gray  cloth  is  im- 
ported. It  passes  into  the  hands  of  a  designer 
who  traces  the  outlines  of  the  figures.  Then  the 
women  paint  it  with  dyes  drawn  from  the  native 
trees.  The  workers  sit  cross-legged  beside  a  fire 
usually  made  in  a  basin  on  a  pile  of  stones;  in 
this  the  pigments  seethe  and  are  mixed.  The  dye 
is  taken  upon  the  point  of  a  copper  instrument, 
by  which  it  is  daubed  on  the  cloth.  Some  of  the 
designs  and  schemes  of  color  are  quite  attractive. 
The  women  chew  the  betelnut  as  they  work;  their 
teeth  are  discolored  black.  Fairly  good  wages 
are  paid  in  the  sarong  batik  industry — about  fifty 
cents  a  day  in  our  currency. 

Garoet  is  a  center  for  excursions  into  the  hills. 
They  are  made  in  carriages.  The  rides  are  more 
interesting  from  their  touch  with  primitive  vil- 
lage life  than  from  any  special  beauty  in  the  lake 
and  hot  springs.  The  most  popular  trip  is  to 
the  volcano  Papandayan.  This  volcano  emits 
sulphurous  jets,  and  ejects  spouting  water  and 
mud. 


JAVA,  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLE       79 

The  last  eruption  of  Papandayan  was  in  1772, 
when  3,000  lives  were  lost. 

One  of  the  most  charming  effects  in  Garoet  is 
the  sublime  sunsets.  The  town  is  set  in  a  valley, 
rimmed  by  high  hills,  rich  in  foliage.  The  drop- 
ping sun  seems  to  gild  the  clouds  with  its  richest 
colors  as  it  sinks  behind  the  hills.  Heaps  of 
clouds  are  hued  like  fairy  palaces ;  color  succeeds 
to  color,  deepening  in  intensity  and  assuming 
endless  forms.  The  eye  of  day  is  shut  in  radiant 
glory  over  a  breathless  world.  After  this  gor- 
geous pageant,  night  shuts  down  in  impenetrable 
darkness. 

COLONIAL    GOVERNMENT 

The  Dutch  colonial  government  is  a  mixture  of 
imperialism,  paternalism  and  socialism.  The  sev- 
eral provinces  are  governed  by  Presidents.  The 
natives  have  no  share  in  government.  A  Nether- 
land-Indies  Council  in  Batavia  is  the  central 
authority  for  all  the  Dutch  East  Indian  colonies. 
Certain  municipal  officers  are  elected  in  the  cities 
by  vote  of  the  property  holders.  All  courts  of 
justice,  where  laws  are  administered,  are  Dutch. 
The  Governor-General,  appointed  by  the  crown 
of  Holland,  has  great  power.  One  of  his  duties 
is  to  protect  the  helpless  natives  from  oppression. 

"O  happy  farmers,  if  they  only  knew  their 
blessings,"  said  Virgil.  Think  of  a  nation  of  35,- 
000,000  people  which  has  no  politics  and  no  re- 
ligious questions.  No  "bosses ;"  no  smooth,  ly- 


80       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

ing,  truth-perverting  political  schemers  and 
demagogues ;  no  caucuses,  conventions  or  elec- 
tions ;  no  parties,  greedy  for  office ;  often  insin- 
cere, quite  generally  ignorant  that  the  spurious 
issues  with  which  they  are  cajoling  the  voters  are 
dead  as  Julius  Caesar ;  no  brawling,  brazen  pre- 
tense of  "loving  the  workingman"  just  before  elec- 
tion ;  no  sordid,  frantic  scramble  after  offices 
often  over-paid ;  none  of  the  hypocrisy,  flare,  hum- 
bug and  glozing  deceit  which  are  spread  over  the 
meaningless  commonplaces  of  party  platforms : — 
From  these,  the  simple-minded  natives  are  exempt. 
The  Javanese  bows  his  head  and  lets  others 
govern  him.  The  Dutch  occupancy  changed  a 
servile  Oriental  despotism  into  a  fairly  liberal 
and  humane  government  of  the  modern  type.  Of 
course  it  does  not  rest  upon  the  consent  of  the 
governed.  It  has  little  relation  to  constitutional 
liberty.  When  65,000  aliens  hold  35,000,000  na- 
tives under  their  heel,  there  must  needs  be  rigor, 
suspicion,  exploitation  and  tyranny. 

JAVANESE     TRAITS 

The  Javanese  seem  to  the  observer  a  silent 
race.  They  are  very  undemonstrative.  They 
walk  in  single  file  and  rarely  converse  with  each 
other.  They  often  live  in  kongpongs  (com- 
pounds), small  clusters  of  huts.  A  family  group, 
a  tribal  instinct,  may  lead  to  this  custom.  Their 
housekeeping  is  simplicity  itself:  a  straw  cage, 
windowless,  no  chimneys,  generally  one  room;  if 


JAVA,  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLE       81 

more,  the  rooms  are  occupied  by  several  families. 
No  chairs  are  needed,  as  the  natives  sit  upon  mats 
or  on  the  bare  ground.  No  heating  is  required 
in  this  blistering  climate,  except  a  few  faggots 
to  heat  the  tea. 

The  costumes  are  as  simple  as  the  diet ;  bare 
feet,  on  the  head  a  handkerchief  swathed  into  a 
turban  or  cap.  The  women  generally  are  bare- 
headed. Like  the  Japanese  women,  their  coil  of 
jet  black  hair  is  the  protection  for  the  head. 
Few  dishes  are  used.  No  books  are  needed,  for 
few  can  read.  The  mosques  are  open  all  day. 
Friday  is  the  day  for  ceremonial  prayer.  The 
mosques  are  as  plain  as  their  homes.  The  floors 
are  covered  with  mattings  and  prayer  rugs  of 
straw. 

Some  of  the  costumes  are  rather  exiguous ; 
they  become  scantier,  until  they  disappear  en- 
tirely from  little  boys  and  girls,  especially  in  the 
country.  The  stark-naked  youngsters  run  on  the 
roads,  and  look  on  the  stranger  wonderingly 
through  their  glowing  eyes.  There  is  no  visible 
indecency  among  the  elders. 

Every  Moslem  is  allowed  four  wives.  When 
I  asked:  "How  can  he  support  them?"  The 
answer  was:  "Why,  they  support  him;  one  sup- 
plies him  with  cigarettes;  one  with  spending 
money,  one  attends  to  his  clothes ;  and  one  to  his 
meals." 

Evidently,  the  new  woman  and  suffragette  have 
not  reached  Java. 


82   GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

One  of  the  interesting  nuisances  in  the  Orient, 
is  the  swarms  of  peddlers.  In  each  considerable 
town  there  is  what  is  called  a  market.  At  this, 
all  kinds  of  native  foods  and  products  are  for 
sale;  also  many  imported  articles.  The  goods 
are  spread  upon  platforms ;  the  sellers  sit  cross- 
legged,  smoking  cigarettes.  The  building  is 
roofed,  and  divided  into  sections.  The  dealers 
send  out  the  peddlers,  who  haunt  any  stranger 
who  happens  to  appear  in  the  village.  The  ped- 
dler kneels  before  him,  crosses  his  hands,  as  if  in 
prayer,  then  opens  his  bag  and  displays  his 
wares.  All  who  have  traveled  in  the  Orient  know 
the  wonderful  elasticity  in  prices.  In  descending 
from  a  grandeur  of  price  to  about  one-third  or 
one-quarter  of  the  sum,  the  Javanese  peddler  is 
an  artist. 

There  is  the  same  aversion  to  manual  work 
among  primitive,  as  among  so-called  civilized 
peoples.  Man  is  naturally  an  indolent  animal. 
Here,  as  in  Europe  and  the  United  States,  peo- 
ple are  congesting  themselves  in  cities. 

There  is  but  one  newspaper  printed  in  the  Eng- 
lish language  in  Java.  All  others  are  in  Dutch. 

Wages  are  beggarly  low  in  Java.  We  hap- 
pened to  be  at  a  hotel  one  Saturday  night,  which 
was  payday.  About  twenty-four  servants  went 
to  the  porch  where  the  manager  stood;  they 
crouched  to  the  ground  and  did  not  seem  to  have 
even  the  spirit  of  hens  fluttering  to  gobble  the 
thrown  corn.  The  manager  counted  them;  then 


JAVA,  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLE       83 

handed  to  one  of  them  the  value  of  six  dollars  in 
American  money,  as  the  aggregate  wages  for  the 
twenty-four.  In  addition  they  have  their  meals, 
and  occasionally  a  tip.  What  would  the  despots 
of  American  kitchens  say  to  this?  These  serv- 
ants, thus  wretchedly  paid,  are  very  competent. 
They  do  everything  possible  to  make  the  guests 
comfortable ;  anticipate  every  want  so  far  as  they 
know.  The  Oriental  servant  sleeps  anywhere. 
He  lies  down  before  his  master's  door;  often  has 
no  pillow;  catches  what  sleep  he  can;  arises  with 
a  smile  in  the  morning,  and  goes  to  his  work  with 
apparent  cheerfulness.  He  is  fatalist  enough  to 
accept  life;  whatever  comes  to  him  is  his  lot. 

Every  foreigner  has  a  "boy."  This  is  the  uni- 
versal term  for  a  waiter  or  valet  in  the  East. 
Housekeepers  employ  a  half-dozen  of  them  or 
more.  The  boy  is  paid  from  a  dollar  to  a  dollar 
and  a  half  a  week,  and  finds  his  own  food  and 
clothes  out  of  this  pittance.  There  is  an  art  of 
economy  in  the  East,  unknown  in  the  West.  The 
people,  as  a  whole,  have  a  healthful  aspect;  but 
few  of  them  seem  to  have  reached  sixty  years. 
The  birth-rate  is  high;  the  population  of  Java 
has  doubled  in  the  last  three  generations. 

Already,  there  is  some  migration  to  the  island 
of  Sumatra.  The  emigrants  go  under  contracts 
of  indenture.  A  Dutch  magistrate  carefully  ex- 
amines each  to  see  if  his  action  is  voluntary.  If 
the  increase  in  the  population  of  Java  continues, 
this  migratory-movement  to  Sumatra  and  Borneo, 


84       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

both  thinly  inhabited,  must  become  more  general. 

CHRISTMAS  IN  JAVA 

A  Christmas  in  the  tropics  is  almost  uncanny. 
Our  winter  festival  has  descended  from  the  wild, 
cold  Northland;  from  our  Norse  ancestors.  The 
Christian  church  borrowed  the  festival  of  the  win- 
ter solstice,  baptized  it:  Woodin,  Thor,  Frigga, 
retreated  before  the  Star  of  Bethlehem.  Santa 
Claus,  the  yule-log,  the  fir  tree  remained;  but  a 
new  thought  veiled  the  ancient  festival.  To  the 
Moslem,  of  course,  Christmas  has  no  meaning. 
To  those  of  the  Christian  faith,  who  live  in  the 
boiling  tropics,  its  home-spirit  is  attenuated. 
The  snow  and  ice,  the  darkening  days,  the  ting- 
ling cold,  the  blustering,  frost-edged  winds,  are 
unknown.  The  gorgeous  plumage  of  the  trees, 
the  languid  air,  the  open  houses,  white  raiment 
and  bare  heads  suggest  mid-summer  heats,  not 
"waste  for  churlish  winter's  tyranny." 

On  Christmas  day  we  were  in  Djocjacarta,  in 
East  Java,  a  most  primitive  town ;  but  with  a 
Dutch  Resident  and  a  considerable  number  of 
Dutch  families.  On  Christmas  eve,  we  happened 
to  be  riding  by  a  cemetery,  and  saw  many  people 
going  into  its  gates,  carrying  flowers.  Nearly 
every  grave  was  decorated  with  beautiful  tropical 
flowers  or  shrubs.  It  was  a  Dutch  cemetery, 
clean  and  well  kept.  With  the  Dutch,  cleanliness 
is  an  instinct.  Javanese  girl-servants  carried 
baskets  of  flowers  and  leaves,  which  were  placed 


JAVA,  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLE       85 

upon  the  graves  and  slabs.  The  assembling  of 
so  many  flowers  perfumed  the  air.  The  plain 
cemetery  was  glorified  into  a  conservatory.  At 
a  few  of  the  graves,  Eurasians  (persons  of  mixed 
European  and  Asiatic  blood),  in  addition  to  the 
flowers,  placed  pots  of  incense. 

All  of  these  slight  but  tender  symbolisms  must 
have  carried  the  thoughts  of  the  Dutch  emigres  to 
their  distant  home-land.  The  Dutchman  comes 
to  the  Indies  to  live;  he  cuts  the  social  roots 
which  link  him  to  Holland ;  he  has  no  intention  of 
reverting  to  his  native  soil;  here,  under  southern 
skies,  in  this  spiced  air  of  the  tropics,  he  comes  to 
live  and  die.  He  seems  to  have  no  home-sickness. 
Yet,  he  remains  Dutch  to  the  core;  he  guzzles 
Holland  gin;  eats  Dutch  cheese;  keeps  his  native 
tongue.  Every  hotel, — indeed,  many  Javanese 
homes, — have  portraits  of  plump  Queen  Wilhel- 
mina  of  Holland.  Many  of  the  Dutch  know 
nothing  of  English. 

THE  DUTCH  AND  THE  NATIVES 

Slavery  once  existed  under  the  Dutch  occu- 
pancy, on  the  part  of  the  conquerors.  It  was 
succeeded  by  enforced  labor.  Now  labor  is  free. 
No  doubt,  there  have  been  tyranny,  some  cruelty 
and  injustice;  but  at  the  present  time,  Java  is 
well  and  humanely  governed. 

The  Dutch  have  been  wise  enough  to  let  the  re- 
ligious and  social  customs  of  the  natives  alone, 
except  where  they  were  inimical  to  good  order. 


86       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

They  have  sapped  the  political  power  of  the  Sul- 
tans, but  have  left  them  a  shadow  of  Oriental 
grandeur. 

THE    SULTANATE    OF    DJOCJACARTA 

This  region,  the  name  of  which  is  generally 
shortened  to  Djocja,  is  most  interesting.  It  is 
an  ancient  Sultanate.  The  Sultan  formerly  had 
despotic  power ;  his  word  was  law ;  when  he  made 
a  public  procession,  no  subject  must  look  upon  his 
divine  face ;  he  must  cringe  and  fawn  before  his 
awful  majesty.  For  a  slight  transgression  the 
offender  was  arrested,  brought  to  the  palace, 
ranged  up  against  a  wall;  his  life  was  ended  by 
a  stab  from  a  poisoned  dagger. 

Now  all  this  is  changed,  except  in  external 
show.  The  Sultan  owned  the  lands  of  his  sub- 
jects. The  government  has  converted  this  title 
into  an  annuity  of  something  like  $300,000  per 
annum  and  has  appropriated  most  of  his  lands. 
He  still  has  a  royal  estate,  more  than  four  miles 
in  circumference,  called  the  Kraton,  where  he  lives 
in  Oriental  pomp. 

The  Kraton  has  a  population  of  from  15,000  to 
20,000  people,  all  of  whom  are  a  part  of  the 
retinue  of  the  Sultan's  court.  Here  are  Oriental 
waste  and  profusion ;  a  wild,  barbaric  hodge- 
podge of  vulgarity  and  art.  A  mosque,  tiger- 
cages,  a  stable  of  Arabian  horses,  elephants,  a 
harem  of  fifty  concubines,  a  yellow  house,  a  danc- 
ing-hall where  girls  dance  while  the  Sultan  eats; 


JAVA,  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLE       87 

a  gilt  banquet-hall,  which  can  accommodate  600 
guests :  lackeys  posturing  and  crouching :  one  giv- 
ing his  time  to  the  important  work  of  holding  up 
a  pole  tufted  with  feathers;  others  pretending  to 
act  as  guards,  with  a  splash  of  swords.  The 
whole  effect  was  tawdry  and  dingy. 

With  all  his  garish  splendor,  the  Sultan  is  a 
prisoner  in  the  Kraton :  he  is  not  allowed  to  leave 
it  or  to  receive  a  guest,  without  license  of  the 
Dutch  Resident.  He  has  been  stripped  of  all 
political  and  judicial  power.  He  is  said  to  have 
been  the  father  of  100  children,  73  of  whom  are 
living :  and  has  so  many  grandchildren  and  great- 
grandchildren that  he  does  not  know  their  names. 
Dutch  guards  are  stationed  on  the  grounds. 

We  saw  a  Rugan,  a  prince,  at  the  hotel.  He 
was  attended  by  a  retinue  of  guards  and  six  serv- 
ants, with  umbrellas.  All  crouched  when  he  sat 
down  at  the  tea-table.  His  waiters  bowed  to  the 
floor  when  they  offered  him  articles  of  food. 

Can  it  be  that  there  is  a  matrix  for  a  future 
republic  of  self-respecting  citizens,  in  countries 
where  servile  and  degrading  adulation  of  over- 
lords has  been  ground  into  the  national  conscious- 
ness, as  the  drift  of  countless  ages?  "The  di- 
vinity that  doth  hedge  a  king"  dies  hard. 

THE    WATER    CASTLE 

In  Djocja  are  the  ruins  of  the  Taman  Sarle,  or 
Water  Castle,  built  by  a  Portuguese  architect, 
some  two  hundred  years  ago,  for  one  of  the  most 


88       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

powerful  of  the  Sultans,  Manko  Boemi.  It  is 
locally  called  "The  Water  Kasteel."  Once  it 
must  have  been  a  magnificent  estate;  it  is  now  a 
dreary  derelict.  It  was  laid  out  on  a  grand 
scale ;  with  many  richly  carved  gates,  a  system 
of  ponds,  canals  and  subterranean  passages.  It 
is  now  deserted.  The  earthquake  of  1867  was  the 
finishing  stroke.  The  once  glassy  ponds  are 
choked  with  slime ;  the  canals  reek  with  rubbish ; 
the  carvings  and  stonework  are  overlaid  with 
mold  and  lichens ;  the  rose-gardens  and  flower- 
beds abandoned  to  jungle.  The  lake,  in  the  cen- 
ter of  which  the  glorious  castle  stood,  has  disap- 
peared. 

Once  the  Water  Castle  was  a  symbol  of  power; 
the  home  of  wassail  and  high  revelry.  The  toil- 
ing Javanese  supported  it  by  their  sweat.  What 
scenes  of  cruelty  and  lust,  of  festival  and  bar- 
baric pomp,  have  been  acted  within  its  walls,  one 
can  only  imagine.  It  stood  for  unbridled  power; 
for  lawless  indulgence;  its  art  was  the  joint  ex- 
pression of  the  Latin  and  Hindoo  forms.  Under 
the  soft  skies  of  Java,  in  the  hush  of  the  brooding 
silences,  in  the  sense  of  mystery  which  invests  any 
memorial  of  departed  greatness ;  with  its  whisper- 
ing palms  and  flashing  oleanders ;  with  the  morn- 
ing-glory creeping  up  its  moldy  walls ;  with  all 
its  mildew  and  decay ;  it  has  a  certain  fascination. 
But  is  must  give  way  to  new  forces.  Even  in 
Java,  it  probably  will  not  encumber  the  silent 
earth  much  longer. 


JAVA,  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLE       89 

BUDDHISTIC     RUINS    IN     JAVA 

The  island  of  Java  was  once  under  the  Hindu 
and  Buddhistic  religions.  What  impulse,  whether 
of  conviction,  state-craft,  violence  or  religious 
fervor,  brought  the  Javanese  over  to  the  faith 
of  Islam,  about  four  centuries  ago,  is  not  clear. 
However,  the  conversion  was  thorough.  Very 
few  adherents  of  the  Hindu  faiths,  except  the 
Chinese  Buddhists,  are  left  in  Java. 

Yet,  some  of  the  noblest  Buddhistic  ruins  in 
the  world  are  on  this  island.  There  must  have 
been  an  exalted  faith  in  Buddhism.  Such  stupen- 
dous temples  could  never  have  been  erected,  a 
thousand  years  ago,  at  epochs  when  the  popula- 
tion and  wealth  of  the  island  were  nothing  as 
compared  with  to-day,  unless  under  a  tremendous 
wave  of  religious  enthusiasm.  Many  of  those 
vast  structures  have  been  obliterated.  Several 
remain  in  impressive  grandeur;  visible  monuments 
of  an  obsolete  faith,  of  a  by-gone  and  spent  de- 
votion to  the  ancient  religions  of  India.  I  can 
mention  but  one  of  them ;  the  greatest  of  all ;  one 
of  the  noblest  expressions  of  religious  art  in  the 
world ;  the  great  Buddhistic  temple  of 

BORO   BOEDOER 

To  describe  this  monumental  ruin;  its  glorious 
setting  in  the  hills,  near  Moentilan,  would  require 
a  volume.  In  size,  the  temple  of  Boro  Boedoer  is 
as  large  as  the  Great  Pyramid  of  Cheops  at 
Gizeh,  Egypt.  In  art,  beauty  and  location,  it  is 


90   GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

infinitely  superior.  There  are  many  extensive 
ruins  of  temples  in  Java ;  Buddhism  was  a  temple- 
building  religion,  like  Catholicism  in  the  Middle 
Ages.  That  of  Brambanan,  near  by,  is  next  to 
the  Boro  Boedoer  in  majesty,  but  much  inferior 
to  it. 

Imagine  a  valley  of  almost  incomparable 
beauty,  climbing  up  into  heliotrope-hued  hills  and 
darkling  mountains ;  the  shadows  of  the  crested 
peaks  and  forested  hillsides  flickering  on  the  sea 
of  green,  in  which  the  valley-basin  is  garbed;  all 
around,  a  vast  silence ;  scarcely  a  house  visible, 
except  the  hotel  and  buildings  near  the  temple ; 
everything  clothed  in  mystery,  as  in  the  Vale  of 
Delphi,  or  amid  the  desert-silences  around  the 
Egyptian  Pyramids.  Man  seems  alien  in  such  a 
scene.  What  can  he  do  to  add  anything  to  this 
magical  beauty?  Can  he  add  a  charm  to  moun- 
tain, tree  or  flower?  Can  he  enrich  the  unspeak- 
able riches  of  this  fountain  of  light  and  glory? 
Yes,  he  can ;  and  he  has  made  his  contribution. 
If  he  cannot  gild  refined  gold,  or  paint  the  vio- 
let, or  add  a  hue  to  summer's  rainbow,  he  has 
added  a  glory  to  this  matchless  valley.  Some 
1100  years  ago,  some  architect, — probably  a 
Hindu, — dreamed  an  exalted  dream.  Perhaps 
the  valley  was  then  densely  inhabited.  At  any 
rate,  whether  in  solitude  or  before  the  eyes  of 
human  multitudes,  the  work  of  building  superb 
Boro  Boedoer  was  begun.  How  long  the  reli- 
gious enthusiasm  lasted  that  flamed  into  this  ma- 


JAVA,  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLE       91 

jestic  structure  and  the  many  others  that  as- 
cended into  the  upper  air  on  the  hills  of  Java, 
we  are  not  told. 

Such  an  era  of  building  must  have  been  a  na- 
tional movement.  Multitudes  of  men  must  have 
said:  "Go  to.  Let  us  build  a  temple."  And 
they  were  built ;  built  by  the  human  hand  alone. 
No  machinery  eased  the  burden.  The  backs  and 
muscles  of  coolies  carried  or  drew  up  the  great 
stones.  Steam,  derricks,  electric  cranes,  and  the 
thousands  of  labor-saving  contrivances  of  our 
day  had  not  then  been  born. 

So,  the  remarkable  temple  of  Boro  Boedoer 
came  into  existence,  in  a  lovely  form ;  built  upon  a 
great  mound  of  earth ;  with  no  inner  auditorium ; 
all  was  external;  a  solid  pyramidal  structure; 
built  without  mortar  or  cement;  stone  laid  on  or 
around  stone;  without  column,  pillar  or  arch. 
Its  symmetry  is  perfect;  not  a  distortion,  except 
where  an  earthquake  or  lightning  has  shaken  it. 
It  was  raised  upon  a  series  of  terraces,  with  fine 
galleries,  each  with  balustrades;  the  highest  ter- 
race crowned  with  a  huge  cupola.  The  lowest 
gallery  has  408  bas-reliefs ;  the  inside  of  the  para- 
pets 470  pictures,  sculptured  in  raised  forms. 
There  were  in  all,  1504  bas-reliefs ;  441  Buddha 
images  still  remain  intact.  No  matter  about 
numbers  or  architectural  details.  The  temple  is 
a  glorification  of  Buddha;  the  pictures  and  im- 
ages represent  his  life  from  his  birth  to  his  Nir- 
vana, when  he  reached  beatific  bliss.  In  all  the 


92       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

images,  he  sits  with  crossed  legs,  It  is  said  that 
no  two  of  his  faces  represent  the  same  attitude. 
Symbolically,  the  lower  tiers  of  images  are  sup- 
posed to  represent  the  world  of  wishes,  that  of 
forms,  that  without  forms,  the  Nirvana,  or  eternal 
rest. 

In  the  neighborhood  are  the  ruins  of  400 
temples,  some  Hindu,  some  Buddhistic,  and  the 
outlines  of  a  city  larger  than  any  now  on  the  is- 
land. 

When  we  remember  what  Java  is ;  a  summer- 
land  of  perpetual  sunshine ;  the  home  of  active 
volcanoes ;  with  a  soil  from  which  the  richest  vege- 
tation almost  exudes,  with  a  fecundity  unequaled 
on  the  globe ;  a  center  of  shivering  earthquakes, 
which  commit  merciless  ravage ; — it  seems  wonder- 
ful that  Boro  Boedoer  has  remained  almost  intact 
"  'mid  the  wreck  of  matter  and  the  crush  of 
worlds."  Yet,  it  has.  It  has  outlived  the  wor- 
ship of  Buddha  on  the  island.  The  descendants 
of  its  builders  have  disowned  him.  The  benign 
face  has  smiled  on  the  blooming  valley  for  ten  cen- 
turies. The  Arabian  prophet,  with  his  mon- 
otheism and  fiercer  faith,  supplanted  the  gentle 
Buddha.  Yet,  Islam  is  represented  by  no  such 
temple-monument. 

Perhaps  Islam  was  forced  upon  Java,  at  the 
edge  of  the  sword,  as  in  North  Africa;  perhaps 
it  came  by  moral  suasion.  Islam  is  the  faith  of 
solitary,  wandering  peoples.  It  may  have  been 
better  adapted  to  the  genius  of  the  Javanese, 


JAVA,  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLE       93 

Both  Buddhism  and  Islam  are  sterilized.  Both 
have  done  a  great  regenerative  work;  probably 
both  have  fulfilled  their  mission. 

As  I  cast  my  last  glance  on  Boro  Boedoer,  I 
said  to  myself:  "Is  such  to  be  the  fate  of  any 
of  the  proud  cathedrals  of  our  day?  Will  the 
shell  outlive  the  substance?  Will  any  of  them  be 
to  unknown  generations  monuments  of  a  departed 
faith?" 

LIGHTS   AND    SHADOWS 

The  rice  (paddy)  interest  in  Java  is  immense. 
It  is  conducted  with  a  high  degree  of  scientific 
agriculture,  with  a  wonderful  system  of  irriga- 
tion. As  soon  as  one  crop  is  harvested,  the  seeds 
for  another  crop  are  sown,  in  endless  succession. 
As  one  looks  upon  the  rice-fields  and  the  many 
laborers  bending  over  in  the  task  of  planting, 
transferring,  gathering  and  binding,  one  wonders 
where  they  lived,  not  a  house  being  in  sight.  But 
look  into  a  fringe  of  trees  which  skirt  the  swamps : 
there  we  find  the  humble  homes  of  the  toilers,  em- 
bowered in  the  shade. 

Another  great  interest  is  tea  culture;  the  seeds 
were  brought  from  China  and  Japan,  as  the  tea- 
plant  is  not  indigenous  to  Java. 

Coffee  culture  has  been  carried  on  for  more 
than  200  years.  Sugar  culture  is  very  ancient; 
in  its  output  Java  is  second  only  to  Cuba.  The 
recent  economic  awakening  has  come  from  rub- 
ber. The  development  of  this  industry  goes  back 


94       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

only  to  1904,  the  plant  having  been  introduced 
from  South  America  through  the  Malay  states. 
Many  millions  of  English  capital  are  now  invested 
in  the  rubber  plantations. 

Java  was  once  a  vast  forest,  and  would  be 
now  were  it  not  for  the  human  hand. 

I  am  informed  that  it  is  only  in  the  province 
of  Batavia  that  the  government  has  sold  land; 
these  sales  were  made  many  years  ago.  In  all 
other  parts  of  Java  the  government  owns  the  fee  of 
the  soil,  which  is  cultivated  on  leases.  This  is 
right.  In  a  country  so  distinctly  agricultural 
and  with  so  dense  and  ignorant  a  population,  the 
land  should  always  be  held  by  the  government  as 
their  trustee. 

The  dark  side  of  Javanese  life — if  the  word 
darkness  can  be  applied  to  a  land  brimming  with 
fountains  of  light,  with  the  softest  of  skies,  rose- 
colored,  fawn-tinted;  with  its  wealth  of  gaudy 
trees  and  shrubs — is  the  ignorance  and  poverty 
of  the  natives.  Most  of  them  seem  to  be  without 
ideas  or  thoughts.  Their  lives  are  a  round  of 
toilsome  work;  their  amusements  are  childish.  If 
there  is  among  them  any  spark  or  potency  of  in- 
tellectual power,  it  has  not  been  developed. 
They  are  stranded  afar  from  the  shore  of  mod- 
ern thought.  Superstitious,  narrow  in  vision, 
near  to  primitive  nature,  they  move  on,  a 
shadowy  procession  of  child-like  beings.  Can 
the  springs  of  thought  ever  be  awakened  in 
them  ? 


JAVA,  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLE       95 

SOERABAYA 

This  big  city  is  simply  a  business  mart ;  a  port 
of  entry  for  the  Australian  trade ;  a  center  of  dis- 
tribution. The  upper  and  newer  parts  of  the 
city  are  finely  laid  out;  the  well-paved  avenues 
are  alive  with  motor  cars ;  the  lower  parts  are 
given  up  to  business,  and  the  homes  of  Chinese 
and  Javanese.  In  these  are  squalor ;  here  are 
hatched  the  germs  of  cholera.  Recently  40,000 
natives  and  Chinese  have  been  inoculated  against 
the  dread  scourge,  from  which  hardly  an  Oriental 
seaport  is  immune. 

THE    HUMAN    ELEMENT 

The  fact  is,  that  in  the  great  human  hives  of 
the  Orient,  humanity  runs  to  waste.  It  is  the 
cheapest  of  all  products.  In  the  early  days  of 
Dutch  supremacy,  there  were  repression,  cruelty, 
slavery  and  shameless  disregard  of  the  rights  of 
the  natives.  Perhaps  the  three  hundred  years 
of  Dutch  rule  are  no  worse  record  than  that  of 
the  same  number  of  years  of  any  other  country 
or  nation.  All  history  is  a  sickening  page  of 
blood,  cruelty,  exploitation  of  the  poor  by  the 
governing  classes,  tyranny  and  abuse  of  power. 
The  methods  by  which  the  Dutch  acquired  the 
lands  of  the  natives  were  very  similar  to  those 
by  which  the  North  American  Indians  were  robbed 
of  theirs  by  the  early  settlers.  Now,  in  spite 
of  the  hauteur  of  the  Dutch,  and  their  strict 
over-lordship  of  the  natives,  I  see  no  reason  to 


96       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

believe  that  they  are  intentionally  inhumane. 
The  problem  is  simply  the  old  one  of  a  dominant 
and  servient  race  coming  in  contact,  with  all  the 
power  on  one  side.  The  natives  sink  into  a  quasi- 
servile  caste.  Their  lives  flow  on  from  father  to 
son  in  the  same  dull  monotony.  Cringing  and 
obedience  become  habitual ;  these  are  in  the  fiber 
of  the  passive  Oriental  character. 

In  the  three  centuries  of  Dutch  control,  not  a 
Javanese  native  has  risen  to  a  high  public  office, 
to  any  considerable  wealth,  or  to  any  business  re- 
quiring administrative  ability.  Is  this  because 
he  is  incapable  by  nature  of  advancement,  or  be- 
cause he  has  had  no  chance?  On  the  other  hand, 
the  wealthiest  man  in  Java  is  a  Chinese,  who  be- 
gan life  as  a  laborer.  My  observations  lead  me 
to  believe  that  the  Chinese  strain  in  the  Javanese 
blood  is  larger  than  has  been  estimated ;  that  the 
Chinaman  is  an  extremely  important  factor  in 
the  industrial  life  of  the  island;  that  his  steady 
hand  and  tireless  energy  are  forces  which  will 
become  more  and  more  recognized  in  its  future 
history.  The  Chinaman  is  a  great  "mixer";  he 
absorbs  and  is  absorbed  as  softly  as  a  rain-drop 
in  almost  any  community.  He  earns  his  rights 
by  patience  and  industry. 

Our  departure  from  Soerabaya  was  almost 
triumphal.  We  were  glad  to  leave  its  steaming 
streets ;  rode  to  the  steamer  through  a  file  of  more 
than  a  thousand,  perhaps  two  thousand,  of  Jav- 


JAVA,  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLE       97 

anese  coolies,  who  were  coming  in  an  opposite 
direction,  for  what  purpose  I  do  not  know.  Si- 
lent, somber,  cheerless ; — hardly  one  talking  to 
another,  they  made  a  ghostly  procession  of  human 
automata;  shadowy  and  grim. 

The  harbor  was  full  of  dirty  sampans.  On 
one,  near  our  steamer,  we  saw  the  coolies  eat 
their  afternoon  meal.  There  were  a  kettle  of 
boiled  rice  and  some  dried  fish.  The  coolies  gath- 
ered around  it ;  stuck  their  fingers  into  the  kettle ; 
took  out  a  handful  of  the  plain  food  and  ate  it 
without  chop-stick,  knife  or  fork.  There  was  no 
need  of  any  such  civilized  implements. 

The  bathrooms  in  the  Orient  are  a  peculiar 
arrangement : — a  tiled  floor,  with  drainage ;  a 
large  basin  of  water,  built  upon  masonry ;  a  dip- 
per from  which  the  bather  splashes  himself.  In 
some  bathrooms  there  is  a  shower-bath.  As 
nearly  all  the  Dutch  and  tourists  dress  in  white, 
clothing  requires  laundering  nearly  as  often  as 
the  body  does  bathing.  When  a  party  of  tour- 
ists arrive  at  a  hotel,  behold,  at  once,  a  procession 
of  kimono-robed  men  and  women  to  the  bathroom. 

FOUNTAIN   OF    COLOR 

Now  for  the  arch  of  triumph  under  which  we 
left  Soerabaya.  It  was  not  on  the  footstool  of 
the  earth,  nor  on  the  watery  sea.  It  was  in  the 
realm  of  cloud-land;  one  of  the  most  magnificent 
sunsets ;  trailing  clouds  of  glory,  luminous  and 


98       GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

splendid.  In  my  many  wanderings  over  this 
earth,  I  have  seen  the  sunset-witchery  of  vapor 
and  radiant  light  in  many  forms  of  almost  be- 
wildering beauty;  in  the  vast  silences  and  crystal 
air  of  Siberia;  in  the  brooding  hush  of  Egyptian 
deserts ;  in  the  wonderland  of  the  Yellowstone 
Park  and  Yosemite  Valley;  in  the  gaunt  North- 
land ;  in  olive-crowned  Greece  and  Palestine ;  and 
very  many  resting  on  the  cheek  of  the  old  ocean; 
but  nowhere  have  I  seen  more  of  a  play  of  delicate 
color  than  in  Java.  Here  are  all  the  conditions : 
ribbed  mountains  and  encircling  sea;  billowy 
waves  of  light  by  day  and  impenetrable  darkness 
by  night;  refraction,  evaporation  going  on  in  all 
the  secrecies  of  the  sky. 

And  so  the  sun,  dipping  into  his  evening  bed, 
on  this  run  from  Soerabaya  to  Batavia,  along  the 
Javanese  coast,  met  the  vaporous  clouds  and 
kissed  them  into  a  multitude  of  forms  and  dyed 
them  in  hues,  inter-penetrating,  floating  from  one 
to  another ;  now  a  cumulus  of  azure-white ;  now 
drifting  into  rose-red ;  now  chasing  into  a  foun- 
tain of  yellow,  with  an  under-bank  of  maroon  or 
opal.  What  inexhaustible  fountains  of  beauty 
are  in  the  secret  treasures  of  nature;  a  choral 
symphony  of  sound,  color  and  power.  Under  the 
soft  equatorial  skies ;  in  the  delicious  perfume  of 
the  sea-air;  with  the  glitter  of  sunshine;  the 
shores  of  Java,  Sumatra  and  Banka,  in  turn,  rais- 
ing their  forested  hills  to  catch  the  eye  of  the 
wandering  passenger,  there  is  a  voiceless  choral, 


JAVA,  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLE       99 

in  which  the  noises  and  discords,  the  rivalries  and 
conflicts,  the  greed  and  scorn  of  man,  melt  in  an 
ecstasy  of  harmony. 

From  Soerabaya  the  steamer  ran  to  Samarung, 
a  considerable  seaport.  Now  Java,  the  summer- 
land,  began  to  recede  from  our  sight.  Its  floral 
magnificence,  majestic  ruins,  glorious  forests, 
superb  trees  and  flaming  shrubs,  its  strange  hu- 
man tribes,  cottages,  rice-fields,  plantations  of 
rubber,  sugar,  tobacco,  tea,  tapioca,  cinchona, 
and  almost  endless  diversity  of  tropical  products, 
were  passing  into  memory,  now  their  only  pos- 
sible granary.  All  began  to  seem  illusory.  The 
wonder  that  had  edged  the  face  of  this  magical 
land,  no  longer  visualized  to  the  outer  senses, 
can  be  known  now  only  to  "that  inner  eye,  which 
is  the  bliss  of  solitude." 

The  cloud-capped  mountains  will  rise  in  solemn 
majesty;  the  ocean  will  lap  the  shores;  the  mil- 
lions of  the  yellow  breeds  will  move  on  in  an  end- 
less stream  of  humanity,  a  segment  of  the  in- 
scrutable East.  All  the  radiant  color  and  glow- 
ing splendor  of  the  tropics  will  still  be  there ;  but 
our  eyes  will  rest  on  them  no  more.  Like  a  vision 
in  the  morning  silences ;  or  a  dream  in  the  still 
hours  of  the  night ;  like  a  shadowy  phantom  of 
beauty  that  is  created  by  an  exalted  imagination, 
it  has  vanished. 

Our  only  stop  the  next  day  was  at  the  town 
of  Minta  on  the  island  of  Banka.  A  gilded  boat, 


100     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

rowed  by  six  stalwart  Javanese, — suggesting 
Cleopatra's  barge  or  an  ancient  trireme, —  came 
out  to  transfer  an  official  from  our  steamer  to  the 
shore. 

The  spunky  Dutchman,  when  clothed  with  a 
little  brief  authority,  rises  to  the  occasion  with 
a  certain  ceremoniousness  unknown  to  us  Ameri- 
cans. He  is  proud  of  his  country's  East  Indian 
empire.  He  has  a  lurking  dread  of  the  rising 
power  of  Japan ;  and  knows  that,  without  the 
aid  of  England  or  Germany,  he  could  not  resist 
successfully  a  Japanese  invasion ;  but  feels  that 
his  main  security  is  in  the  great  distance  from 
Japan. 

TROPICAL  DISCOMFORTS 

Are  there  no  discomforts  in  Java?  Yes,  many. 
There  is  the  terrific  heat,  which  eats  into  the  vi- 
tality of  a  Northerner.  At  this  midwinter  season 
there  is  insolent  daylight  from,  say,  five  in 
the  morning  until  seven  in  the  evening;  refreshed 
often,  in  this  the  wet  season,  by  a  cooling  shower 
in  the  afternoon.  When  the  shower  ends,  it  is 
astonishing  to  see  how  soon  the  air  is  choked 
with  dust.  The  rain  dries  almost  as  it  touches 
the  ground,  unless  there  be  thick  shade.  So 
warm  are  the  nights  that  no  bedclothes  are  re- 
quired. The  beds  are  phenomenally  large,  gen- 
erally six  by  eight,  screened  by  a  muslin  netting. 
On  this  huge  bed  one  sleeps  without  cover. 

Insect   and   reptilian  life   abounds.     The   click 


JAVA,  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLE     101 

of  the  slimy  lizard  is  heard  as  it  climbs  the  walls 
of  verandas  and  bedrooms.  It  is  useful  as  an 
insect-catcher  and  is  harmless.  Flies,  ants,  midg- 
ets, all  sorts  of  insect  torments,  are  rife. 

All  houses  must  be  adjusted  to  air-drainage. 
They  are  rarely  more  than  one  story  high;  gen- 
erally with  trim  gardens  garlanded  with  palms 
and  potted  shrubs.  Almost  everything  is  in  the 
open;  the  large  porch  or  veranda  is  the  gather- 
ing place.  To  lock  up  a  house  or  a  room  in  a 
hotel  is  almost  an  impossibility.  The  stranger 
is  somewhat  disturbed  at  first  when  he  sleeps  in 
an  open-ground-floor  room,  with  a  cohort  of  na- 
tives sprawled  on  the  hall  or  veranda  floor  about 
him.  He  misses  his  usual  safeguards ;  but  soon 
falls  into  the  free  and  easy  ways  of  the  coun- 
try. 

RETROSPECT 

So,  when  one  is  on  a  comfortable  steamer, 
breathing  the  ozone  of  the  ocean,  away  from  the 
blister  of  the  summerland,  one  can  hardly  avoid 
a  feeling  of  relief.  One  can  hardly  wish  oneself 
back  and  does  not  envy  the  Dutchmen  their  palm- 
bowered  homes.  Rather  one  half  sighs  for  what 
Shakespeare  calls  "thrilling  regions  of  thick- 
ribbed  ice;"  for  a  bracing  nor'-wester,  a  gust  of 
snow-filtered  air;  a  touch  of  tingling  cold;  a  look 
upon  a  fall  of  downy  snow. 

On  the  third  morning  the  steamer  reached  the 
port  of  Batavia,  and  here  we  spent  our  last  day 


102     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

on  Java.  It  was  mainly  devoted  to  a  visit  to 
the  Museum,  which  contains  a  valuable  and  inter- 
esting collection  of  antiques  and  curios,  which 
have  been  gathered  in  the  Dutch  East  Indies. 
These  included  ancient  armor  and  weapons,  of 
course,  because  man  always  has  been  and  is  now, 
a  fighting  animal,  with  an  insatiate  propensity 
to  kill  his  fellowmen; — cooking  utensils,  speci- 
mens of  primitive  hand-weaving,  mat  and  basket 
work,  pottery,  bronze  and  iron  work,  musical  in- 
struments, clothing,  wood-carving,  glassware, 
replicas  of  primitive  houses  and  furniture;  and, 
worst  of  all,  instruments  of  torture,  a  collection 
almost  as  horrible  as  that  seen  in  the  Tower  of 
London  or  in  Nuremberg  Castle.  How  much  of 
the  ingenuity  of  mankind  has  been  devoted  to  hell- 
ishness. 

Perhaps  the  most  suggestive  part  of  the  collec- 
tion was  that  of  implements  which  gave  a 
biological  record  of  the  moving  of  the  ancient 
tribesmen  of  Java,  from  the  stone  age  into  the 
age  of  bronze  and  iron.  While  dates  of  these 
important  movements  are  lost  in  the  mists  of 
antiquity,  such  articles  are  proof  of  the  steady 
evolutionary  progress  of  our  race  into  a  higher 
intellectualism  and  gathered  power  of  utilizing 
natural  forces. 

Some  of  the  articles,  such  as  ivory  carving 
and  delicate  woodwork,  indicated  that  the 
Malayans  of  the  archipelago  formerly  possessed 
a  mechanical  skill  which  is  now  lost.  Their  hid- 


JAVA,  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLE     103 

eous  idols,  antedating  the  adoption  of  Brahman- 
ism  or  Buddhism,  represented  the  earliest  stages 
of  the  religious  consciousness,  an  elementary 
striving  to  solve  some  of  the  mysteries  of  life. 
Many  of  them  were  based  upon  demonology, 
even  now  a  powerful  force  in  all  lands ;  rude 
concepts  of  the  destructive  forces  of  nature;  in- 
fantile efforts  to  avert  the  revengeful  wrath  of 
offended  deities.  Early  religions  were  largely 
the  result  of  fear.  The  primitive  mind  saw  evil, 
destruction  and  death  at  work  everywhere.  How 
to  propitiate  malevolence  was  the  basis  of  much 
of  the  idolatrous  worship.  Religion  was  then 
based  upon  selfishness.  As  the  Malayans  out- 
grew human  sacrifices,  the  idols  became  more  be- 
nignant in  aspect.  The  faces  of  Buddha  always 
indicate  loving  pity  for  mankind.  Even  now, 
however,  the  old  idolatrous  spirit  lingers  among 
the  natives.  When  a  volcanic  eruption  over- 
whelms the  land,  the  effigy  of  a  man  is  thrown 
into  the  crater.  A  few  hundred  years  ago,  a 
man  would  have  been  sacrificed.  At  least,  some 
progress  has  been  made  out  of  the  darkness  of 
primitive  superstitions. 

December  30. 

This  day  closed  our  pilgrimage  to  Java.  The 
memories  of  its  glorious  scenery ;  its  palms  sil- 
houetted against  the  crimson  sky ;  the  exuberant 
forestry  springing  from  the  fat  soil ;  all  the 
indescribable  wealth  of  natural  beauty ;  and 
the  multitudes  of  the  human  element  so  pro- 


104     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

foimdly    interesting,    are   the   pleasing   residuum. 

American  travel  to  Java  is  increasing  rapidly. 

It  is  said  that  3,000  tourists  visit  it  every  year. 

American   business   interests   in   Java   are   slight. 

Singapore,  January  1. 

Back  again  in  Singapore,  on  New  Year's  Day. 
This  holiday  is  one  day  later  than  at  home.  All 
business  is  suspended.  Flags  are  flying  from  the 
shipping  in  the  harbor.  The  shores  are  lined 
with  thousands  of  coolies,  watching  boat-races. 
An  occasional  rest  enters  even  their  toilsome  lives. 


X 

THE  MALAYAN  PENINSULA 

A  shining  spot  upon  a  shaggy  map: 
Where  mind  and  body,  in  fair  junction  free, 
Luted  their  joyful  concord. 

Meredith. 

The  Malayan  Peninsula  is  not  large  in  area. 
It  has  less  than  £6,000  square  miles.  It  is  a 
little  more  than  half  the  size  of  England,  or 
Java,  or  New  York  State.  For  many  years  it 
had  an  unenviable  reputation.  It  was  the  nurs- 
ery of  pirates.  The  peninsula  has  an  excellent 
geographical  relation  to  commerce.  It  is 
tongued  on  the  east  by  the  China  Sea ;  on  the 
west  by  the  Straits  of  Malacca:  it  is  near  to  the 
rich  islands  of  Sumatra,  Java  and  Borneo. 
Once,  back  in  far-folded  ages,  which  have  never 
told  their  secrets,  those  islands,  and  even  Aus- 
tralasia, were  an  integral  part  of  the  Asian  con- 
tinent. Some  awful  cataclysm  came:  or  there 
were  infinite  ages  of  slow  disintegration:  at  last, 
these  islands  were  ripped  from  the  continent. 
The  Malayan  Peninsula  is  stretched  out,  like  a 
lizard's  tongue,  to  catch  them.  In  vain:  the  is- 
lands have  gone  on  their  vagrant  way:  per- 
haps not  until  "the  last  syllable  of  recorded 
105 


106     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

time";  but  until  these  remote  days  when  a  re- 
distribution of  the  earth's  crust  may  confuse  the 
schemes  of  men,  if  men  are  then  on  this  planet. 

When  these  islands  parted  company  with  the 
mainland  of  Asia,  they  left  enough  behind  them. 
The  Malayan  Peninsula  was  not  left  dowerless. 
It  is  one  of  the  most  fertile  and  productive  re- 
gions of  the  world.  Four  hundred  years  ago 
Europeans  came  here:  the  Portuguese,  who  were 
then  a  race  of  hardy  mariners;  what  little  title 
to  the  Peninsula  the  Portuguese  had  acquired 
was  grabbed  by  the  spunky  Dutch,  who,  for  some 
years,  had  a  settlement  at  Malacca.  This  town 
gave  its  name  to  the  peninsula :  in  my  school- 
days, its  name  was  the  Peninsula  of  Malacca.  In 
the  final  shakeup  between  England  and  Holland, 
after  the  downfall  of  Napoleon,  whatever  title 
the  Dutch  had  to  any  part  of  the  peninsula  was 
vested  in  England. 

Singapore  at  the  south,  Penang  at  the  north, 
became  important  trade  centers.  Malacca 
faded.  England  gradually  acquired  title  to  more 
of  the  peninsula.  The  result  is  a  bewildering 
division  of  authority.  A  part  of  the  peninsula  is 
the  Straits  Settlements,  all  littoral  territory  or 
islands.  The  rest  except  a  strip  which  belongs 
to  Siam,  is  divided  into  provinces  nominally 
under  control  of  the  native  Sultans.  In  each 
province  is  an  English  Resident,  who  either  ad- 
ministers or  "advises"  the  local  Sultan  how  to 
administer  his  Sultanate. 


THE  MALAYAN  PENINSULA       107 

All  of  the  peninsula,  except  the  Straits  Settle- 
ments, is  called  the  Malay  Federated  States.  In 
the  States  the  title  to  most  of  the  land  is  vested 
in  the  local  sultan.  The  most  southerly  sul- 
tanate is  Jahore,  just  north  of  Singapore. 

The  Mohammedan  religion  came  into  the  pen- 
insula from  Sumatra  and  Java;  there  are  tradi- 
tions of  an  invasion  from  one  or  both  of  those 
islands  about  the  year  1400.  The  original  in- 
habitants were  Negritos.  A  few  of  these  are  left 
in  the  mountain  fastnesses ;  but  virtually  the 
Malay  is  now  the  only  native.  In  all  the  prov- 
inces of  the  Malay  Federated  States  the  English 
Resident  does  not  interfere  in  matters  of  re- 
ligion. In  the  cities  and  towns  there  are  Prot- 
estant and  Catholic  churches.  Few  Moslems, 
however,  change  their  faith.  Once  a  Moslem, 
always  a  Moslem  is  the  rule.  The  simplicity  of 
Mohammedanism  is  its  strength.  It  accepts  an 
absolute  sultan ;  but  otherwise  a  Moslem  com- 
munity is  a  pure  democracy,  without  castes  or 
aristocracy. 

The  land  is  allotted  to  the  natives  by  the  sultan, 
generally  in  farms  of  about  five  acres.  It  is 
usually  put  down  to  rice,  in  the  culture  of  which 
the  Malay  shows  considerable  skill,  especially  in 
irrigation.  His  rice  crop,  supplemented  by  a 
cocoanut  grove  and  a  patch  of  bananas,  supplies 
all  his  wants.  He  is  indolent  and  unambitious, 
unmoved  by  the  influx  of  aliens. 

Why  should  he,  the  lord  of  the  soil,  a  future 


108     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

inheritor  of  Paradise,  work?  He  is  a  perfectly 
satisfied  being.  He  is  vexed  by  no  political  or 
religious  problems;  he  leaves  all  those  to  the 
Sultan,  the  Koran  and  the  priests.  Let  the  Eng- 
lishman develop  the  country  by  his  brains  and 
money;  and  the  Chinese  by  his  muscle.  He  was 
here  before  these  adventurers  came ;  he,  doubtless, 
expects  that  his  descendants  will  be  here  when 
they  are  gone.  He  smokes  his  tobacco,  or  chews 
the  sugar-cane,  while  his  wife  works  in  the  rice- 
field.  His  taxes  are  light.  Really  the  Malay  is 
quite  a  philosopher  in  his  way.  No  gad-fly  of 
progress  stings  him.  All  the  strenuous  strivings 
of  the  Occident;  all  the  mechanical  inventions 
which  are  fast  transforming  the  political  and 
economic  order;  all  the  speculations  of  scientists, 
who  "follow  knowledge  like  a  sinking  star,"  have 
no  meaning  to  him. 

Kindly  nature  cast  the  indolent  Malay  in  a 
land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey.  It  is  a 
splendid  inheritance. 

Take  tin-mining  alone.  Who  realizes  that  on 
this  little  peninsula,  three-fourths  of  which  have 
not  yet  been  touched,  45  per  cent,  of  the  world's 
output  of  tin  is  mined?  All  the  mines  are  on 
leased  land ;  the  government  receives  a  royalty 
and  lays  an  export  tax.  The  annual  output  has 
a  value  of  $40,000,000.  The  industry  is  old  on 
the  peninsula;  much  of  it  is  carried  on  by  the 
Chinese,  with  crude  methods;  with  the  flesh-ma- 
chine, instead  of  hydraulic  engineering.  The 


THE  MALAYAN  PENINSULA      109 

large  companies  conduct  their  business  with  high 
technical  skill.  Nothing  on  the  peninsula  is  so 
profitable  as  tin  mining.  While  the  deposits 
hold  out,  a  stream  of  wealth  will  flow  in  to  the 
miners.  The  tin  companies,  as  well  as  the  rub- 
ber business,  are  financed  in  London.  The  Malay 
Federated  States  have  an  overflowing  revenue ;  a 
large  surplus. 

THE    CLIMATE    AND    CITIES 

The  tourist,  who  makes  only  a  swallow-flight  to 
the  Malayan  Peninsula,  perching  for  a  few  hours 
in  Singapore  and  Penang,  knows  little  of  its 
amazing  beauty  and  profound  interest.  In  many 
respects,  especially  in  the  northern  part,  it  re- 
sembles Java ;  or  rather,  the  Java  of  bygone 
generations,  when  the  hand  of  civilized  man  was 
beginning  to  tame  its  wildness.  It  is  a  land 
where  nothing  can  live  to  old  age.  Nature,  the 
eternal  mother,  always  rejuvenating  herself  in 
new  growths,  is  the  only  thing  which  can  be  called 
old.  The  dampness  of  the  climate,  the  vo- 
racious vegetation,  allow  nothing  that  man  builds 
to  last  long.  These  laugh  at  his  clumsy  ambi- 
tions. 

At  Kuala  Lumpur  and  Ipoh  and  Taiping, — 
the  former  the  capital,  and  the  other  two  cities, 
growing  and  important  business  centers,  on  the 
railroad  line  from  Singapore  to  Penang,  these 
facts  were  noticeable.  Much  has  been  done  to 
promote  sanitation,  and  to  adorn  them  with  fine 


110     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

buildings.  Parks  and  gardens,  refreshed  by  the 
showers,  their  trees  and  shrubs  drawing  their  life 
from  the  soil  rich  in  vitalizing  chemical  qualities, 
soon  reach  a  wondrous  growth.  Vegetation 
springs,  bounds,  laughs  into  jocund  life.  Alas, 
however,  for  buildings.  Dampness  and  mildew 
soon  give  them  a  clammy  aspect.  They  sweat. 
Those  which  are  only  twenty  years  old  often 
look  as  venerable  as  the  ruins  of  the  Old  World. 
The  prevailing  stone,  a  laterite,  of  limestone  na- 
ture, easily  disintegrates.  The  wind,  the  juices 
of  the  skies,  the  creeping,  vegetable  growths,  soon 
trail  over  them,  and  eat  into  the  fiber  of  the  stone 
like  acids. 

The  Malay  never  built  after  this  fashion.  The 
palm  and  bamboo  were  and  are  his  building  ma- 
terial. He  raises  his  cage  from  the  ground  in 
order  to  avoid  the  exuding  dampness,  reptiles, 
insects  and  the  thousand  pests  that  are  spawned 
from  the  spongy  soil.  He  builds  so  that  he  may 
always  have  air-drainage.  No  windows  repel 
the  fanning  winds ;  no  furniture  invites  vermin. 
If  one  cage  falls,  a  few  days'  work  will  give  him 
another.  All  he  wants  of  a  house  is  as  a  bed- 
chamber. As  for  the  rest  of  his  domestic  needs, 
hasn't  Allah  given  him  his  due  share  of  the  en- 
chanted earth? 

All  of  the  towns  must  be  re-builded  over  and 
over  again.  It  is  only  in  the  cold,  hard  air  of 
the  Occident  that  there  can  be  even  a  temporary 


THE  MALAYAN  PENINSULA       111 

endurance  to  man's  creations.  In  the  tropics, 
early  decay  is  the  seal  set  in  all  the  boiling  heats 
where  man  wears  "the  shadowed  livery  of  the 
burnished  sun."  The  tropics  are  not  the  theater 
for  age.  Life  is  too  rich,  too  honeyed,  to  last 
long. 

RUBBER     PLANTATIONS 

What  a  wonderful  railroad  ride  is  that  from 
Kuala  Lumpur  to  Penang.  It  is  one  succession 
of  rubber  plantations,  of  tin  mines,  of  strange 
peoples,  of  new  born  towns.  The  railroad  line 
skirted  the  bearded  mountains  which  bisect  the 
Peninsula. 

Rubber,  rubber,  rubber  is  the  one  theme  of  con- 
versation. Its  culture  is  conducted  on  an  im- 
mense scale.  Almost  every  Englishman  a  tourist 
meets  is  connected  with  the  business.  For  miles 
and  miles  the  passenger  looks  up  or  down  the 
shadowy  aisles  of  the  groves.  Trees  are  planted 
on  the  lowlands,  or  on  the  sides  of  hills.  It  was 
now  the  tapping  season  and  thousands  of  trees 
had  cups  attached  into  which  the  precious  juice 
drips.  Most  of  the  tapping  is  done  by  Chinese, 
who  are  paid  as  high  as  fifty  or  seventy-five  cents 
a  day,  besides  being  supplied  with  lodgings. 

This  sudden  and  vast  development  of  the  rub- 
ber interest  has  brought  into  the  Peninsula 
hordes  of  immigrants.  The  Chinese  and  Hindus, 
whose  wages  in  the  home-land  rarely  are  ten  cents 
a  day,  are  allured  by  the  offer  of  several  times 


GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

that  sum.  They  ignore  the  climatic  peril:  the 
deadly  malaria.  Planters  complain  of  the  con- 
stant enticement  of  their  help  by  their  competi- 
tors, who  tempt  with  higher  wages.  Thus  the 
eternal  labor  question  bulges  up  here. 

THE  JUNGLE 

One  who  has  not  seen  a  tropical  jungle,  un- 
touched in  its,  primitive  wildness,  can  hardly 
realize  its  mysterious  interest.  Nothing  like  its 
vegetal  riot  is  known  in  the  temperate  zones. 
Imagine  a  sweep  of  growths,  covered  with  fan- 
shaped  leaves,  the  stalk  perhaps  three  or  four 
feet  high ;  then  a  fringe  of  higher  plant-life,  clut- 
tered and  clustered  in  the  wildest  profusion, 
growing  taller  and  tougher  until  the  forest  is 
reached.  All  is  a  mass  of  green,  except  that 
here  and  there  a  flowering  shrub  may  give  a  local 
color,  generally  yellow,  to  the  dense  background. 
No  sunbeam  can  pierce  its  gloom.  Under  the 
canopy  of  leaves  and  creepers  all  is  crepuscular. 
The  jungle  is  the  twilight  land.  No  globule  of 
earth  is  left  naked.  Out  of  it  springs  some  form 
of  vegetal  life. 

"Every  clod  has  a  thrill  of  might, 

An  instinct  within  it  that  reaches  and  towers; 
And,  groping  blindly  above  it  for  light, 

Climbs  to  a  soul  in  grass  and  flowers." 

Life  in  the  jungle  is  at  high-tide — hot, 
steamy,  ferocious.  Every  plant  or  tree  is  suck- 


THE  MALAYAN  PENINSULA      113 

ing  the  life- juices  of  another.  It  is  war  to  the 
death.  The  sinuous  vine  is  strangling  the  tall 
tree.  One  tree  fights  another  with  its  roots. 
Here  is  merciless  competition  run  wild.  Every 
root,  each  tendril,  all  foliage  must  draw  their 
life  from  something;  and  where  life  is  so  con- 
gested, each  member  of  the  jungle  colony  is  vo- 
racious for  its  speck  of  earth,  its  glint  of  super- 
ficial sunshine,  each  drop  of  rain  or  dew,  each 
inch  of  space.  A  dying  tree  is  at  once  attacked 
by  an  army  of  parasitic  foes.  When  dead,  its 
trunk  is  soon  swathed  in  the  spreading  leaves 
of  some  creeper,  which  has  helped  in  its  death. 

The  jungle  teems  with  insects  and  reptilian 
life.  Here  hideous  serpents  and  slimy  lizards 
find  coverts.  Over  its  upper  planes  of  trees, 
vines,  and  floating  leaves,  butterflies,  midgets, 
beetles,  and  swarms  of  minute  creatures  fly  and 
buzz. 

Woe  to  the  man  who  attacks  the  jungle  for 
reclamation!  The  very  sod  may  be  his  deadliest 
enemy.  The  poisonous  decay  of  ages  has  been 
absorbed  into  its  veins,  hidden  from  the  sunlight, 
soaking,  festering,  always  renewed  by  fresh  de- 
cay. It  has  become  a  poison-chest.  Touch  it 
with  ax  or  spade,  and  at  once  spawning  pesti- 
lential bacteria  are  liberated.  The  air  is  impreg- 
nated with  these  impalpable,  death-dealing  ene- 
mies. Every  energy  of  jungle  life  combines 
against  the  reclaimer. 

To  subdue  a  jungle   is   a  magnificent  victory 


GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

over  darkling  forces  of  immensely  destructive 
power. 

Yet  to  the  tourist,  wheeled  along  in  the  com- 
fortable car,  the  jungle  has  a  ghastly  beauty.  It 
is  a  type  of  the  immense  fecundity  of  nature,  a 
reservoir  of  multitudinous  life,  a  vortex  of  un- 
ceasing action.  It  is  a  symbolism  of  the  con- 
structive and  destructive  powers  of  physical  laws. 
In  this  rank  charnel-house  can  the  inner  harmony 
of  things  be  detected, — "that  central  peace  sub- 
sisting at  the  heart  of  endless  agitation." 

It  is  hard  to  interpret  the  moral  meaning  of 
such  a  confused  microcosm  as  the  jungle.  It 
must  be  a  part  of  what  some  philosophers  now 
call  "transvaluation,"  one  of  the  pet  catch-words 
of  our  time. 

Of  the  dark  trilogy  of  sin,  suffering,  and 
death, — humanity's  universal  Passion  Play,  which 
is  always  being  acted  on  the  human  stage, — the 
first  is  absent  from  the  life  of  inferior  creatures. 
It  is  only  man  who  can  sin.  There  is  no  moral 
turpitude  in  the  carnage  among  animals.  Each 
creature  follows  the  law  of  his  being.  The  claw, 
the  tooth,  the  poisoned  fang,  the  deadly  bite,  the 
constrictor's  coil,  are  nature's  attributes,  a 
brutal  response  to  a  normal  instinct.  It  is  be- 
cause man  has  the  power  of  sinning  that  the  in- 
dividual and  social  consciences  have  been  devel- 
oped. There  is  much  truth  in  Matthew  Arnold's 
noble  lines, — 


THE  MALAYAN  PENINSULA       115 

"Know  man  is  all  that  nature  is,  and  more; 
And  in  that  more  lies  all  his  hope  of  good." 

Another  interesting  element  in  the  railroad 
journey  is  the  straggling  hills  of  white,  chalky 
limestone.  Under  the  acidulous  atmosphere  they 
crumble  slowly  into  atoms.  Some  of  them  seem 
to  reel  like  drunken  monsters.  Cleft  from  their 
neighboring  hills,  upon  which  their  chins  once 
rested,  they  await,  as  in  a  coma  of  stupefaction, 
the  final  dissolution.  The  forests  ravage  their 
flanks,  and  extract  the  nitrogen  from  their  veins. 
In  this  way  soil  is  made.  Once  a  mountain ;  then 
a  plateau;  then,  washed  by  rains  and  fertilized 
by  bird  and  wind,  they  become  the  lair  of  the 
jungle.  The  eternal  transformation  never 
ceases. 

"The  hills  are  shadows  and  they  flow 

From   fold  to  fold,   and  nothing   stands. 
They  melt  like  mists,  those  solid  lands ; 

Like  clouds,  they  shape  themselves  and  go." 

ANTIQ.UITIES 

The  Malayan  Peninsula  is  not  rich  in  antiqui- 
ties of  fossils.  The  climate  is  too  absorbent.  It 
was  in  Java  that  Professor  Haeckel  found  the 
half-human,  half-ape  fossil — the  pithecanthropus 
— which  he  believes  to  be  the  connecting  link  be- 
tween human-kind  and  its  Simian  ancestry. 

The  primeval  forests   and  mountains   are  still 


116     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

the    range    of    elephant,    tiger    and    rhinoceros. 
Crocodiles  live  in  the  rivers  and  fens. 

Beautiful  shade  trees  guard  the  streets  of  the 
towns.  The  pendant  pearls  of  the  laburnum 
swing  in  the  air;  the  angsena  tree  drops  its 
golden  snow  on  the  green  of  the  meadows. 

SINGAPORE   ONCE  MORE 

The  flat  stretches  of  Singapore  seemed  rather 
dreary  after  the  tumultuous  richness  of  the 
scenery  of  Java.  But  here  we  were  compelled  to 
stay  for  nearly  a  week.  There  was  nothing  to 
do  but  to  accept  the  jail-limits;  to  pay  exorbi- 
tant prices  for  wretched  hotel  accommodations; 
to  mince  over  the  unpalatable  food  furnished  in 
a  pretentious  hotel; — and  to  entertain  ourselves 
out  of  our  own  resources.  This,  indeed,  is,  after 
all,  the  root  of  all  pleasure.  It  must  come  from 
within,  not  from  without. 

The  hotels  are  usually  owned  by  a  corporation ; 
leased  by  it  to  a  manager,  who  sub-lets  the  eating 
arrangements  to  a  Chinese  at  a  fixed  price  for 
each  meal. 

So  it  is  in  nearly  all  the  Oriental  hotels ;  showy, 
flaring  structures ;  quite  a  sweep  of  veranda ; 
some  attempt  at  floral  decorations ;  sometimes  an 
orchestra,  which  plays  a  good  many  American 
rag-time  songs ;  but,  like  Mother  Hubbard's  cup- 
board, the  kitchen  is  bare.  Guests  are  always 
grumbling  about  the  poor  food. 

A  week  in  Singapore  added  little  to  our  pre- 


THE  MALAYAN  PENINSULA       117 

vious  knowledge  of  this  prosaic  place.  The 
weather  was  steamy  hot.  The  humidity  was  so 
great  that  a  fungus  mold  appeared  upon  leather 
and  some  kinds  of  cloth,  if  left  unshaken  and  not 
aired  for  a  few  days.  Another  pest,  all  over  the 
South  Orient,  is  the  ant,  a  most  voracious  crea- 
ture; destructive  to  almost  everything.  Not  one 
may  be  in  sight;  but  let  a  crumb  of  food  or  a 
dead  beetle  drop  to  the  floor,  and  a  vast  army 
will  appear  from  secret  apertures  in  the  floor  or 
wall;  ravenous,  insatiable  creatures.  In  the 
Dutch  Indies,  trunks,  boxes  and  everything  de- 
structible are  set  upon  bricks  or  some  rough  sub- 
stance over  which  the  ant  cannot  crawl. 

How  can  Singapore  be  expected  to  be  as 
healthy  as  it  really  is?  As  an  English  resident 
expressed  himself  to  me:  It  is  built  on  covered 
slime.  It  is  a  reclaimed  and  crusted  marsh; 
some  of  its  squares  and  parks  are  built  on  tide- 
water level.  It  has  no  sewer  system ;  no  method 
has  yet  been  devised  to  get  rid  of  its  sewage  ex- 
cept by  scavenger  carts.  The  rain  is  the  great 
cleansing  agency,  flushing  the  filthy  streets,  soak- 
ing the  impurities  from  the  soil,  probably 
often  penetrating  to  the  subterranean  slime. 
In  the  dry  season  the  sun  is  the  absorbent 
agency. 

Singapore  was  once  a  city  of  more  commercial 
importance  than  it  is  now.  This  is  hard  to  real- 
ize, when  one  may  see  a  thousand  craft  in  its 
harbor.  It  has  not  shrunk  in  population;  the 
great  expansion  of  the  rubber  interest  has  led 


118     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

to  a  recovery  of  some  of  its  former  importance. 
Once  it  had  a  great  trade  with  Manila  and  the 
Dutch  East  Indies ;  it  was  a  distributing  reser- 
voir of  their  products;  a  clearing-house  of  their 
banking  interests.  Now  all  is  done  by  direct 
communication  with  Europe.  Singapore  is  no 
longer  the  intermediary.  However,  it  is  not  a 
decadent  city ;  it  still  represents  a  very  active 
commercial  life.  It  is  a  halfway  station  for 
Asiatic  tours ;  a  touch-and-go  rest-house.  This 
intermittent  travel  fills  its  hotels,  as  it  flits 
through. 

Back  of  Singapore  lie  the  renowned  Botanical 
Gardens,  the  reservoir,  fine  club-houses  and  many 
beautiful  homes.  The  roads  are  excellent  for 
motoring.  Here  are  the  homes  of  the  rich  Chi- 
nese, some  of  whom  maintain  splendid  establish- 
ments. 

Singapore  being  essentially  a  Chinese  city,  with 
a  super-added  Hindu,  Malayan,  Japanese,  Java- 
nese life  and  of  a  bewildering  complex  of  Asiatic 
races,  its  street-life  is  really  the  most  interesting 
thing  it  presents  to  the  tourist.  Ancient  racial 
customs  are  observed  with  tenacity.  The  races 
meet,  but  do  not  melt  into  each  other. 

One  night  we  heard  a  hideous  noise  of  discord- 
ant instruments  coming  from  a  house  across  the 
street.  It  turned  out  to  be  a  part  of  the  funeral, 
— or  rather  of  one  of  the  successive  funerals, — of 
a  rich  Chinese  widow,  who  had  died  two  months 


THE  MALAYAN  PENINSULA       119 

before.  How  many  funerals  have  been  or  are 
to  be  given  to  her  embalmed  body  I  do  not  know. 
We  were  told  that  it  would  not  probably  be  bur- 
ied for  a  month.  Her  house  was  near  the  busi- 
ness center  of  Singapore  on  a  narrow  street.  In 
front  of  it,  on  the  sidewalk,  were  all  sorts  of  ef- 
figies of  the  things  of  which  the  deceased  was 
most  fond:  a  miniature  coach  to  which  were  at- 
tached two  wooden  horses,  painted  white,  as  white 
horses  were  her  favorites;  a  jinrikisha  chair,  an 
imitation  of  hers ;  a  small  temple,  a  model  of  that 
in  which  she  worshiped,  and  so  on.  Inside  the 
house  were  silks,  robes,  plaques,  mats,  tapes- 
tries; everything  that  she  had  enjoyed  in  life. 
The  embalmed  body  was  in  a  splendid  casket  of 
lacquer,  studded  with  silver;  a  rich  pall  of  em- 
broidered silk  was  thrown  over  it.  Tapers  and 
candles  were  burnt  by  priests  and  relatives. 
Friends  offered  sacrifices,  perhaps  of  her  favorite 
dishes.  Incense  was  burned  around  the  casket. 
Every  now  and  then  would  come  the  torturing 
screech  of  the  so-called  musical  instruments ;  some 
of  the  musicians  being  stationed  in  an  upper  gal- 
lery, some  on  the  streets.  A  stream  of  curious 
passers-by  and  tourists  witnessed  the  weird  cere- 
mony. No  one  was  refused  admission.  The 
farce  was  kept  up  until  midnight,  when  there  was 
a  final  flare  of  tapers  and  fanfare  of  noise.  All 
the  outside  articles  were  removed;  it  is  said  that 
they  were  burned  on  a  public  common.  They  were 
made  for  her  spirit  alone;  no  others  should  have 


120     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

any  title  to  them.  The  next  morning,  the  corpse 
lay  in  its  magnificent  receptacle ;  the  tapestries 
hung  on  the  walls ;  the  candles  and  tapers  were 
burning;  a  few  women  and  children  were  in  at- 
tendance. 

Such  was  one  exhibition  of  Chinese  ancestor- 
worship;  a  principle  upon  which  much  of  the  na- 
tional life  is  founded.  The  Emperor  has  hereto- 
fore represented  its  collective  spirit.  Exagger- 
ated, distorted,  it  nevertheless  is  the  basis  of 
much  that  is  good  in  the  Chinese  character;  but 
it  has  been  pushed  into  a  cult,  which  has  para- 
lyzed a  nation  otherwise  gifted  with  a  great  fund 
of  common  sense.  The  ghostly  past  has  too  long 
had  China  in  its  clutch ;  the  nation  has  ignored 
the  present;  saturated  itself  into  a  flatulent  self- 
complacency;  its  Emperors  became  drunken  with 
egotism;  its  common  people  sunken  in  ignorance 
and  superstition.  The  late  revolution  was  the 
outgrowth  of  that  monstrous  conservatism  which 
arrested  the  development  of  natural  resources, 
cramped  individualism,  strangled  enterprise  and 
made  China  the  booty  of  even  the  smallest  mili- 
tary power  which  saw  fit  to  encroach  upon  it. 

In  contrast  with  the  showy  funereal  flum- 
mery which  I  have  mentioned,  I  am  told  that  on 
the  plantations  when  a  poor,  tuberculous  or  ma- 
laria-stricken Chinese  coolie  falls  by  the  way,  his 
countrymen  often  disclaim  any  acquaintance  with 
him;  leave  his  corpse  lying  where  he  fell;  are 
callously  unsympathetic.  Strangers  must  give  to 


THE  MALAYAN  PENINSULA       121 

the  worn-out  human  husk  that  last  service  which 
man  must  render  to  his  kind. 

One  of  the  strange  features  of  life  in  the  Ori- 
ental seaports  is  the  sampan,  or  boat-life.  This 
reaches  its  limit  in  Hong  Kong  and  Canton. 
How  many  millions  of  Chinese  make  their  homes 
on  these  dirty  boats,  no  one  knows ;  but  the  fig- 
ures must  be  very  large.  Singapore  is  no  ex- 
ception. The  estuaries  and  rivers  are  crowded 
with  these  dismal  craft,  filled  with  their  floating 
inhabitants.  It  is  said  that  children  born  on 
these  may  not  tread  on  land  for  years ;  indeed, 
that  some  of  the  tenants,  especially  women,  never 
do  so.  In  the  intense  struggle  for  existence  in 
the  Orient,  the  poor  are  thus  driven  even  to  the 
water  for  a  home.  There  is  no  place  for  them 
on  land.  Homeless,  wandering,  vagrant,  prop- 
ertyless,  the  canal  or  river  is  the  only  element 
which  will  give  them  footing;  a  cabin  or  a  roof- 
less deck  their  only  refuge.  Yet  this  may  be  as 
good  as  the  slime  and  indescribable  filth  of  a  con- 
gested street  in  a  typical  Oriental  city. 

THROUGH    THE    PENINSULA 

From  Singapore  we  took  a  steamer  for  Port 
Swettenham,  on  the  west  coast  of  the  Malayan 
Peninsula.  It  was  pleasant  to  get  ourselves  away 
from  the  ruck  of  Singapore  life:  to  watch  the 
wooded  shores:  to  trail  through  the  narrow  jaws 
of  the  strait  that  barely  opens  the  harbor.  The 


122     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

sea  is  the  great  disinfectant.  The  fare  on  Ori- 
ental steamers  is  much  better  than  in  the  hotels. 

The  front  of  the  town  of  Port  Swettenham  is 
built  on  tidal  flats;  the  pier  is  set  on  large  iron 
cylinders,  sunk  in  the  mud  to  a  depth  of  more 
than  130  feet.  The  embankment  and  pier  cost  a 
frightful  toll  of  human  life.  The  bones  of  more 
than  1000  coolies,  whom  fever  and  tuberculosis 
claimed  as  victims,  tell  at  what  a  price  this  region 
is  developed.  When  we  read  of  an  earthquake, 
or  volcano,  or  cyclone,  or  a  bloodthirsty  massacre 
destroying  1000  lives,  we  shudder;  yet,  man's 
march  to  industrial  arts  is  hardly  less  merciless. 
The  Suez  and  Panama  canals,  the  havoc  of  fever- 
and-ague  and  typhoid  in  the  gaining  of  our  West, 
and  an  endless  catalogue  of  sacrifice  of  lives  of 
slaves  and  captives  in  the  building  of  the  great 
monuments  of  antiquity;  all  these  tell  one  tale: 
that  man  lives  for  his  fellow-men,  and  not  for 
himself  alone.  It  is  only  within  a  few  years  that 
humanism  has  entered  into  the  industrial  rela- 
tions of  men.  The  lash,  the  swish  of  the  slave- 
whip,  the  degradation  of  womanhood  and  child- 
hood, in  the  service  of  Mammon,  are  not  so  far 
back  as  one  might  wish. 

Even  to-day,  in  spite  of  hospitals,  medical  su- 
pervision, inoculation,  labor  inspection,  and  the 
application  of  scientific  and  humane  principles  in 
the  treatment  of  coolie  labor,  the  ravages  of  ma- 
laria in  this  region  are  hideous.  An  English 
rubber  grower  told  me  that  out  of  a  gang  of 


THE  MALAYAN  PENINSULA       123 

coolies  who  were  brought  here  to  work  last  May, 
about  350  in  all,  154  were  dead  before  Christmas. 
The  death-rate  among  the  Hindus  is  larger  still. 
The  Chinese  are  the  tougher  race.  E,ven  the 
English  managers  are  not  immune.  In  one  rub- 
ber district,  all  but  two  of  the  managers  were  in 
hospitals,  at  one  time  last  year.  The  malarious 
climate  soon  draws  the  bloom  of  health  from  Eng- 
lish cheeks.  Pallad,  hollow  faces  tell  the  dismal 
story.  White  men  cannot  do  muscular  labor  in 
this  climate. 

In  Penang,  out  of  a  population  of  150,000, 
only  about  500  are  Europeans.  It  is  essentially 
a  Chinese  settlement,  an  island  city.  A  steam 
launch  brings  the  passengers  from  the  terminal 
town  of  Prai  on  the  mainland. 

Penang  is  a  commercial  center.  The  climate 
is  more  endurable  than  that  of  Singapore.  A 
tropical  city,  it  is  invested  with  the  color  which 
hovers  over  Southeastern  Asia.  Brilliant  days 
chase  each  other  in  languid  procession.  At  about 
six  in  the  afternoon  velvet-robed  night  begins  to 
descend,  wrapping  the  earth  in  an  inky  shroud; 
as  we  saw  it  in  Java  and  on  the  Peninsula,  when 
the  cocoanut-groves,  silhouetted  against  the  rosy 
sky,  faded  into  dark  ghosts  and  the  night-jahr 
and  owls  began  their  nocturnal  concerts. 

The  Malayan  Peninsula  is  now  behind  us.  Its 
beauties  and  wild  interests  are  an  impression  of 


12-i     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

the  fast-fading  past.  We  are  out  of  sight  of 
the  purpling  shadows  of  the  aisles  of  the  rubber 
plantations ;  of  the  thousands  of  cocoanut-groves 
lifting  their  f ronded  heads  into  the  glittering  air ; 
of  the  great  mountain  ranges,  forested  to  their 
crests,  their  chins  meeting  each  other;  trembling 
with  their  soft,  violet  color;  of  swarming  Malay 
villages;  of  a  jangle  of  dusky  races;  of  long 
streets  in  the  cities  jammed  full  of  rabbit  warrens ; 
of  coolie  homes ;  of  gorgeous  shrubs,  tasselled 
trees,  powdery  blossoms,  unfamiliar  fruits. 

We  are  now  on  a  steamer  of  the  British  India 
Line  en  route  from  Penang  to  Rangoon.  For 
two  days  we  have  sailed  over  the  rippling  seas  of 
the  Malayan  Archipelago.  Elusive  islands  have 
met  us  and  vanished.  Flying  fish  dart  into  the 
air  and  poise  their  shining  mail  in  the  trembling 
winds. 

At  night  there  is  the  glory  of  the  stars,  also. 
Brilliant  constellations,  unseen  in  the  northern 
zones,  shine  in  the  sky  dome  above  us ;  such  as 
the  Southern  Cross,  Alpha  and  Beta  Centauri. 
Their  discs  glitter  with  a  startling  sheen.  Bil- 
lions of  miles  away  in  the  sidereal  abysses,  they 
seem  so  near  that  one  could  almost  clutch  them 
with  the  hand.  Cold,  voiceless  messengers  from 
unknown  systems  of  worlds,  they  are  indices  of 
the  immeasurable  cosmic  spaces,  qf  the  far-folded 
realms  of  illimitable  vastness,  into  which  eye  has 
not  peered  and  from  which  no  sound  echoes  to 
the  listening  ear  of  man. 


XI 
BURMA 

On  the  road  to  Mandalay, 
Where  the  flyin'  fishes  play, 

An'  the  dawn  comes  up  like  thunder  outer  China  'crost 
the  bay. 

Kipling. 

FROM    PENANG    TO    RANGOON 

The  steamer's  run  from  Penang  to  Rangoon 
took  three  days.  No  ocean  travel  could  be  more 
luxurious  in  conditions  of  weather.  The  Gulf  of 
Martaban  stretched  itself  out  like  a  silvery  sheet. 
The  waves  sparkled  with  lustrous  color.  The 
winds,  spiced  from  the  perfume  box  of  the  ocean, 
blew  around  us  in  friendly  comradeship.  We 
worked  out  of  "the  doldrums,"  as  the  sailors  call 
the  area  lying  nine  degrees  north  and  south  of 
the  equator,  out  of  the  breeding-belt  of  rain,  into 
the  region  where  there  was  calm. 

More  than  half  the  time,  the  skein  of  islands 
which  lock  the  southeast  coast  of  Burma  from 
the  open  sea,  were  in  sight ; — heavily-wooded ; 
most  of  them  uninhabited  and  negligible  in  value, 
except  for  some  tin  deposits  on  a  few  of  them. 
125 


126     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

And  such  glorious  sunsets.  In  the  tropics 
there  is  little  of  that  crepuscular  light  which 
marks  the  ebbing  of  day  in  the  northern  land. 
Night  springs  out  of  its  lair  and  smuts  the  earth 
soon  after  the  dip  of  the  sun.  There  is  some- 
times, however,  an  after-glow,  generally  short, 
which  transfigures  cloud-land  into  tumbling,  shift- 
ing heaps  of  almost  spectral  colors.  This  is  the 
last  flash  of  day. 

THE  COAST 

The  Irrawaddy  river,  having  its  source  in 
streams  rising  in  the  mountains  of  Thibet, 
spreads  into  a  broad  delta  as  it  flows  into  the  sea. 
It  has  several  mouths,  one  of  them  the  Rangoon 
river,  from  which  the  capital  city  of  Burma  takes 
its  name. 

The  distance  from  Penang  to  Rangoon  is  about 
770  miles.  Few  of  the  port  cities  of  Southeast- 
ern Asia  are  connected  by  railroads. 

Most  of  the  sailors  on  the  Oriental  lines  from 
Hong  Kong  southward  and  westward  are  Las- 
cars ;  a  general  name  applied  to  natives  of  India. 
Our  Lascar  sailors  and  stewards  were  Mohamme- 
dans. It  was  quite  an  impressive  sight  when  at 
sunset  hour  they  turned  toward  Mecca  and  bowed 
seven  times  in  prayer.  The  Moslems  are  punc- 
tilious in  the  outward  observance  of  their  reli- 
gious rites.  The  observer  wonders  how  much  of 
sincerity  there  is  in  their  formal  worship; 
whether  their  prayers  are  only  "a  sad,  mechanic 


BURMA  127 

exercise";  a  selfish  reaching  out  after  some  per- 
sonal benefit;  or  whether  they  include  the  inter- 
ests of  others  than  themselves.  Is  the  prayer 
based  on  pure  egoism,  or  upon  the  spirit  of  hu- 
man love?  Is  it  really  any  prayer  at  all,  or 
merely  an  apparatus  of  ritual?  Yet  all  mani- 
festations of  worship  are  impressive.  The  sunset 
hour;  the  hush  of  the  ocean  solitude;  the  swarthy 
faces ;  the  curled  turbans  and  flowing  robes ;  the 
spudding  winds ;  the  steamer  deck ;  surely  these 
are  a  romantic  setting  for  outward  devotion. 

Ask  a  native  Indian  what  his  nationality  is ;  he 
answers  "Mohammedan"  or  "Hindu,"  according 
to  his  religion.  What  a  divisive  thing  religion 
often  is.  The  tenacity  with  which  men  cling  to 
their  ancestral  faith  extinguishes  the  sense  of  na- 
tionality and  patriotism. 

RANGOON ITS   PAGODAS 

Rangoon  lies  about  twenty-six  miles  above  the 
mouth  of  the  river  Irrawaddy.  The  steamer 
crawled  slowly  up  the  stream,  along  reaches  of 
flatlands;  the  conspicuous  objects  on  the  eleva- 
tions or  hills  being  the  domes  of  Buddhistic  pago- 
das. As  we  neared  Rangoon  we  saw  the  glitter- 
ing spires  of  the  Shwe  Dagon  and  Sule  Pagodas, 
the  former  being  probably  the  finest  pagoda  in 
the  world  and  the  magnet  which  draws  many  tour- 
ists to  Rangoon. 

Indeed,  the  Shwe  Dagon  Pagoda  is  worthy  of 
its  reputation.  It  is  one  of  the  few  famous 


128     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

buildings  which  do  not  disappoint  at  near  ap- 
proach. Some  parts  of  the  pagoda  are  claimed 
to  be  2500  years  old.  However  that  may  be, 
additions  have  been  made  from  time  to  time,  until 
an  immense  mass  of  buildings  have  been  gathered ; 
some  of  them  noble  types  of  Oriental  architecture. 
Like  nearly  all  the  Buddhist  temples  in  Burma, 
this  is  set  upon  a  hill;  the  smaller  temples  flank- 
ing the  central  pagoda.  All  is  wildly  Oriental 
in  color  and  form.  Gargoyles,  devils  and  effigies 
of  monsters  guard  the  approaches.  The  visitor 
enters  through  a  long,  rising  corridor,  which  is 
cheapened  by  peddlers  and  small  booths.  The  re- 
deeming element  in  this  base  use  of  the  pagoda 
grounds  is  in  the  flower  market.  Heaps  of  flow- 
ers were  for  sale,  mostly  by  jauntily-dressed  Bur- 
mese girls.  Some  of  them  were  bought  for  per- 
sonal decoration;  more  for  offerings  on  the  many 
shrines  of  Buddha.  The  visitor  walks  through  a 
circuit  of  alleys ;  everywhere  a  new  pagoda  arises ; 
everywhere  statues  of  the  saintly  Buddha. 

At  the  top  of  the  main  pagoda  is  a  golden  um- 
brella ;  the  portion  below  the  umbrella  is  covered 
with  solid  gold.  The  outside  of  many  of  the  pa- 
godas is  gilded.  Priests,  robed  in  surplices  of 
brown  silk,  walk  in  the  corridors  or  sit  near  the 
altars.  Beggars  and  afflicted  ones  solicit  alms. 
Strolling  musicians  play  on  instruments.  There 
are  tea-houses,  cafes  and  dwellings  on  the  temple 
grounds,  presumably  for  priests  and  acolytes. 

The  Burmese  are  intense  Buddhists.     The  land 


BURMA  129 

has  thousands  of  temples.  All  are  built  by  pri- 
vate gifts.  We  are  told  that,  when  an  appeal 
is  made  for  a  new  temple,  women  often  offer  their 
beloved  jewels  and  bangles, — their  most  precious 
possessions.  These  are  sold  or  melted  into  ma- 
terial for  temple  ornaments. 

Buddhism  is  a  passive  religion.  It  forbids  the 
taking  of  life.  This  rule  is,  of  course,  often  cir- 
cumvented. The  Buddhists  will  eat  meat,  if 
someone  else  kills  the  animal.  Fish  are  eaten,  be- 
cause they  die  a  natural  death,  when  taken  from 
the  water.  The  priesthood  must  declare  a  war 
as  holy,  before  it  can  be  entered  upon.  Chris- 
tian missionaries  speak  approvingly  of  the  gen- 
eral good  character  of  Buddhist  priests ;  these 
are  the  teachers  of  Burmese  youth.  It  is  rare  to 
find  a  native  who  cannot  read  and  write.  Every 
boy  is  trained  to  service  as  an  acolyte  in  the  tem- 
ples. 

The  Burmese  costumes  are  as  gay  as  can  be. 
No  color  is  too  smart.  As  the  sexes  dress  nearly 
alike,  a  Burmese  crowd  means  a  moving  mass  of 
pink,  white,  and  almost  every  bright  color.  The 
people  are  civil  and  courteous ;  never  dangerous, 
except  through  frenzy. 

RESOURCES 

Burma  is  a  country  which  is  fast  forging  ahead 
in  progress.  It  lies  to  the  east  of  the  Bay  of 
Bengal;  its  area,  including  the  Shan  provinces, 
is  nearly  237,000  square  miles.  Its  population 


130     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

is  between  ten  and  eleven  millions,  and  is  fast  in- 
creasing. To  a  casual  observer,  no  Asiatic  coun- 
try seems  to  offer  better  opportunity  for  invest- 
ment. The  climate  is,  on  the  whole,  healthy.  Its 
forestry  is  diversified  and  rich.  One  of  the  an- 
cient industries  has  been  the  export  of  teakwood, 
of  which  Burma  produces  an  abundance.  The 
country  is  largely  unreclaimed;  only  about  one- 
fifth  of  the  rich  soil  has  been  reduced  to  agricul- 
ture. Almost  everything  which  is  grown  in  the 
tropics  will  grow  here.  It  is  a  land  of  flowers 
and  blossoming  shrubs. 

Burma  has  immense  mineral  deposits ;  to  de- 
velop these  mining  interests  the  British  colonial 
government  grants  liberal  concessions.  Petro- 
leum tapping  has  been  an  industry  for  a  genera- 
tion ;  400  American  drillers  are  employed  by  local 
oil  companies.  Tin,  gold,  precious  stones,  silver, 
platinum,  rhodium  and  wolfram  are  among  the 
mineral  products.  Just  now,  the  interest  is  great 
in  the  mining  of  wolfram,  which  is  a  very  valu- 
able mineral,  used  in  the  hardening  of  steel  and 
as  filaments  in  electric  lights. 

All  these  possibilities  of  industrial  and  mining 
wealth  are  giving  to  the  country  a  lurch  forward. 
Rangoon  is  growing  rapidly;  already  it  has  more 
than  300,000  people. 

The  Burmese,  like  the  Malayans,  are  indis- 
posed to  manual  work,  except  in  the  old  ways  of 
rice  (paddy)  culture.  As  the  country  is  well 
watered  and  the  rivers  abound  in  fish,  paddy  and 


BURMA  131 

water-food  are  the  diet  of  the  peasantry.  No 
Burmese  have  acquired  fortunes ;  they  are  not  as 
yet  infected  with  the  modern  wealth-hunger. 
Chinese  and  Hindus  are  the  laborers.  As  Upper 
Burma  touches  the  Chinese  frontier,  there  is  a 
constant  flow  of  immigration  from  the  Celestial 
Empire. 

The  English  have  controlled  Lower  Burma 
since  1826;  Upper  Burma  since  1880,  when  the 
murderous  King  Thibaw  was  captured  and  de- 
throned. 

It  is  certainly  a  land  of  promise.  It  needs 
roads  and  development.  There  is  no  hostile  sen- 
timent toward  foreign  investors. 

BURMESE    LIFE 

The  great  charm  of  Burma  to  the  tourist  is  in 
its  brilliant  local  color;  the  picturesque  costumes 
of  the  natives ;  the  freshness  and  variety  of  the 
flowers ;  the  splash  and  blending  of  human  fami- 
lies ;  the  flowing  bazaars,  where  almost  every 
conceivable  thing  made  by  the  hand  of  man  is 
offered  for  sale ;  the  fluff  and  luster  of  silks ;  silks 
everywhere  worn  by  the  fair  Burmese  girls,  the 
stateliest  men  and  by  the  priests ;  the  number  and 
splendor  of  the  pagodas,  with  their  shining 
spires.  Even  the  ubiquitous  crows  must  be  men- 
tioned: cawing  everywhere,  invading  verandas, 
even  rooms  of  houses,  flying  like  dark  spirits  in 
the  courts  of  the  pagodas.  They  even  perch 
upon  the  heads  of  the  marble  statues  of  the  good 


132     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

Buddha,  as  if  they  were  saucily  saying,  "Here 
we  are  safe.  Buddha  was  the  tender  protector  of 
dumb  creatures.  We  have  a  right  to  be  here." 
No  one  seems  to  molest  the  crows ;  flocks  of  them 
hovering  in  the  sky,  flapping  their  ebony-black 
wings,  immune  from  slaughter. 

Every  tourist  is  supposed  to  visit  a  lumber- 
yard, where  elephants  are  employed  as  beasts  of 
burden.  Faithful  servants  are  they,  too.  We 
rode  to  the  river-bank  in  the  delicious  morning 
hour.  The  tide  had  run  out.  A  load  of  large 
teak  beams  had  been  brought  in  on  rafts,  at  high 
tide,  and  were  stranded  on  the  muddy  flats. 
Four  elephants  were  at  work,  each  controlled  by 
a  rider.  The  only  weapon  of  the  driver  was  a 
slight  stick  which  had  an  iron  curve  at  the  end, 
with  which  he  could  catch  the  elephant's  ears,  if 
need  be.  The  bulky  creatures  seemed  to  enjoy 
their  work.  They  wallowed  in  the  mud;  a  man 
on  the  ground  fastened  the  big  teak  beams  to  the 
elephant  with  chains.  The  beast  drew  it  until  it 
reached  a  bridge;  then  it  was  chained  to  and 
dragged  by  another  elephant.  If  the  beam 
needed  replacement,  the  elephant  pushed  it  with 
feet  and  proboscis.  The  riders  cling  to  their 
seats  very  cleverly,  even  if  the  elephant  lowers 
his  head  to  the  ground.  We  saw  one  elephant, 
dragging  a  long  log,  lift  another  with  his  snout 
on  his  tusks  and  thus  carry  it,  steadying  it  on 
the  tusks  by  a  constant  movement  of  the  probos- 


BURMA  133 

cis.  The  elephants  exhibited  great  intelligence. 
Electric  cranes  have  in  part  supplanted  their 
labor. 

MANDALAY 

Mandalay  lies  up  the  Irrawaddy.  Kipling  has 
given  it  fame  as  having  a  shore-line.  It  has  not ; 
it  is  inland.  Probably,  with  allowable  poetic 
freedom,  he  used  Mandalay,  a  musical  word,  as 
a  generic  name  for  Burma.  Mandalay  is  a  mod- 
ern city.  It  has  a  pagoda  with  more  than  700 
temples,  and  a  huge  bazaar. 

THE    INDIAN    COOLIES 

In  the  late  afternoon  of  each  day,  when  the 
work-hours  are  over,  crowds  of  Hindu  coolies 
gather  on  the  open  space  on  the  Strand,  as  the 
main  street  in  Rangoon  is  called.  No  two  men 
seem  alike.  A  daub  on  the  face,  the  color  of  a 
sash,  many  slight  external  distinctions,  mark 
some  tribal  or  religious  relations,  or  indicate 
caste.  Light  as  sea-foam,  prattling,  smoking, 
laughing,  the  crowds  seem  as  volatile  as  the  crows 
circling  above  them  in  the  air.  They  gather  and 
separate  like  shadows.  You  look  upon  the  liv- 
ing mass ;  turn  your  head,  and  lo,  they  are  gone. 
Who  are  they?  What  are  they?  Are  they  re- 
alities? Do  they  have  thoughts?  Or  are  they 
only  so  many  human  automata? 


XII 

INDIA 

The  wealth  of  Ormus  and  of  Ind: 

Or  where  the  gorgeous  East,,  with  richest  hand, 

Showers  on  her  kings  barbaric  pearl  and  gold. 

Milton. 

The  voyage  from  Rangoon  to  Calcutta  took  us 
over  the  northern  part  of  the  Bay  of  Bengal. 
The  distance  is  about  780  miles.  The  approach 
to  India  is  by  no  means  impressive.  After  the 
steamer  enters  the  Hooghly  river, — as  the  delta 
of  the  Ganges  is  called, — the  water  does  not 
"suffer  a  sea-change  into  something  rich  and 
strong,"  but  thickens  into  liquefied  mud.  The 
coast-soil  of  India  is  spongy.  Immense  quanti- 
ties of  silt  are  poured  into  the  hundred-mouthed 
river.  Thus  a  paste  is  generated.  The  channels 
are  constantly  shifting  through  the  action  of 
cross-currents  and  the  meeting  of  confluent 
streams.  The  treacherous  Hooghly  is  the  dread 
of  mariners.  The  local  pilots,  who  are  obliged 
to  study  each  day  the  caprices  of  the  unruly  river, 
receive  extraordinary  pay.  When  our  steamer 
entered  the  Hooghly,  three  pilots  were  taken  on 

board.     The  point  of  greatest  danger  is  called 
134 


INDIA  135 

the  James  and  Mary  Bar,  from  the  fact  of  the 
shipwreck  of  a  vessel  of  that  name  there.  When 
the  steamer  is  entering  this  narrow  channel, 
where  three  branches  of  the  Hooghly  converge, 
and  where  there  is  a  constant  dislocation  of  the 
clayey  sediment,  all  the  life-boats  are  lowered,  in 
view  of  the  possibility  of  a  collision  with  some 
new-formed  shoal,  and  the  passengers  are  sup- 
posed to  be  on  deck.  There  is  little  hope  for  any 
craft  caught  in  the  muddy  jaws  of  the  Hooghly 
at  this  point.  There  is  no  floating  it  from  the 
pitiless  quicksands:  it  careens  and  is  swallowed 
like  a  pebble. 

In  spite  of  all  these  hazards,  the  Hooghly  car- 
ries an  immense  commerce.  All  the  shipping,  to 
and  from  Calcutta,  must  thread  its  currents  and 
pass  over  its  slime. 

India,  vast,  almost  continental  in  area,  can  be 
reached  only  by  sea  and  through  the  mountain 
passes  on  the  north  and  east.  It  has  no  through 
railroad  lines.  Except  the  merchandise,  which 
is  brought  by  caravans,  its  commerce  is  entirely 
marine.  It  has  thus  been  secluded  from  a  great 
part  of  the  world  by  mountain  ranges  or  wastes 
of  ocean.  Many  railroad  lines  have  been  pro- 
jected; but,  up  to  the  present  time,  engineering 
difficulties  and  the  great  capital  required  have 
been  deterrent  obstacles. 

Calcutta  is  about  120  miles  from  the  Bay  of 
Bengal.  We  passed  numerous  jute  mills.  Cal- 
cutta is  the  seat  of  the  jute  industry,  several  brick 


136     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

kilns  and  cotton  mills.  There  is  nothing  of  the 
picturesque  or  romantic  in  the  riparian  scenery 
of  the  Ganges. 

CALCUTTA 

Calcutta  has  been  the  capital  of  India  since 
the  English  occupancy.  Its  history  is  linked  with 
that  of  the  great  leaders,  Lord  Clive  and  Warren 
Hastings,  who  won  India  for  England.  It  is  not 
one  of  the  historic  cities  of  India ;  it  is  modern ; 
its  roots  do  not  run  into  the  early  life  of  the 
country.  It  was  an  inconsiderable  place,  in 
wealth  and  population,  until  it  became  a  center 
of  commerce.  Its  recent  growth  has  been  rapid. 
It  has  now  more  than  1,100,000  inhabitants;  it 
has  become  the  largest  city  in  India.  Elaborate 
government  buildings  have  been  built  from  public 
funds;  rich  merchants  and  Indian  rajahs  have 
established  sumptuous  homes.  In  fact,  the  com- 
mon description  of  Calcutta  is  as  "a  city  of  pal- 
aces." 

In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  by  proclamation  of 
King  George  at  the  recent  durbar,  executing,  of 
course,  the  decision  of  his  ministers,  Calcutta  is 
to  be  shorn  of  its  prestige  as  capital  of  the  In- 
dian Empire ;  and  ancient  Delhi,  on  the  Jumna,  is 
to  have  the  honor.  If  a  change  was  to  be  made, 
and  there  are  strong  arguments  for  it,  Delhi,  a 
city  around  which  many  of  the  glorious  memories 
in  Indian  history  cluster,  is  the  appropriate  place. 
Naturally,  the  transfer  is  most  unwelcome  to  Cal- 


INDIA  137 

cutta ;  but  it  was  to  be.  It  involves  a  vast  outlay 
of  money,  which  will  sorely  tax  the  revenues  of 
India.  It  dislocates  many  traditions  and  inter- 
ests. The  work  of  un-doing  has  already  begun. 
Calcutta  is  too  large  and  rich  a  city  to  be  shorn 
of  its  feathers,  because  it  must  lose  the  prestige 
which  is  associated  with  a  national  capital ; 
it  must  be  stripped  of  this  adventitious  prop,  and 
recoil  upon  its  own  resources.  The  tone  of  its 
press  and  the  speech  of  its  citizens  are  bitter  when 
the  subject  of  removal  is  discussed;  but  the  mat- 
ter is  beyond  the  gates  of  argument. 

EUROPE    IN   INDIA 

At  last,  we  were  in  India,  the  objective  point  of 
our  tour.  In  our  vagarious  route,  we  had  taken 
nearly  three  months  to  reach  it.  Perhaps  it  is 
unwise  to  anticipate  too  much  from  any  country; 
even  in  the  ancient  home  of  the  Aryan  race ;  the 
cradle  of  great  systems  of  religions  and  philoso- 
phies ;  the  birthplace  of  Buddha,  whose  life  and 
teachings  have  so  wonderfully  impressed  unknown 
millions  of  men. — Here  also  has  been  the  home  of 
the  most  persistent  aristocracy  the  world  has 
ever  known — the  Brahmans.  Again,  in  India 
were  born  two  of  the  most  popular  of  English 
authors,  Thackeray  and  Kipling.  In  India,  Lord 
Macaulay  lived  for  several  years  as  a  law  com- 
missioner; here  also  Arthur  Wellesley,  after- 
wards the  Duke  of  Wellington,  first  arose  to  mili-  • 
tary  fame.  In  the  line  of  generalship  and  states- 


138     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

manship,  India  has  been  the  theater  where  some 
of  the  ablest  men  of  action  whom  England  has 
produced  have  exercised  their  talents.  The  East 
India  Company,  through  its  long  history,  rivaled 
our  modern  trusts  as  a  monster  monopoly.  The 
viceroys,  whom  England  has  delegated  from  time 
to  time  to  administer  the  complex  affairs  of  its 
Indian  Empire,  have  generally  been  men  of  high 
character  and  great  executive  talent. 
/  Nations  have  fought  like  demons  for  the  wealth 
of  Ormus  and  of  Ind.  Portugal,  Holland,  France 
and  England  were  the  European  antagonists. 
Tartar  hordes  have  drenched  the  sunny  fields  of 
India  with  human  gore.  Persian  conquerors  have 
pillaged  and  massacred.  Alexander  the  Great, 
who  had  pierced  the  Persian  empire  as  an  egg 
shell,  thundered  to  the  Djelum  river,  but  the  re- 
volt of  his  Macedonians  foiled  his  military  lust 
and  dreams  of  conquest. 

The  French  at  one  time  nearly  ousted  the  Eng- 
lish from  the  control  of  India;  but  their  able  gen- 
eral, Dupleix,  after  splendid  services  to  his  un- 
grateful country,  returned  to  Paris,  to  die  a 
pauper. 

India  has  been  a  missionary  ground  for  fervid, 
self-sacrificing  messengers  of  the  Christian  -re- 
ligion. The  greatest  names  among  them  are  St. 
Francis  Xavier,  whose  beautiful  wife  well  deserved 
the  crown  of  sainthood,  and  the  benignant  Bishop 
Heber  of  the  Church  of  England,  and  Schwartz,  a 
man  of  wonderful  power. 


INDIA  139 

INDIA'S  MYSTICISM 

The  mysticism  of  the  human  mind  has  found 
riotous  expression  in  India.  Religious  fanaticism 
has  nowhere  flamed  into  greater  fire.  Here  have 
thrived  for  ages  cults  and  mysteries,  hoary  and 
venerable,  which  pass  under  a  mask  of  novelty  in 
the  West.  Faith-cure,  mental  science,  a  nega- 
tion of  the  efficacy  of  medicine,  a  segregation 
of  mind  and  body,  belief  in  refined  sorcery,  de- 
monology,  malicious  animal  magnetism, — all  of 
which  have  an  occasional  recrudescence  in  the 
West, — have  been  popular  beliefs  in  India  for 
ages,  and  now  have  schools  of  professional  prac- 
titioners. There  is  nothing  new  under  India's 
sun.  Even  the  evolutionary  philosophy  of  Her- 
bert Spencer  and  Darwin, — the  cardinal  principle 
of  modern  science, — was  foreshadowed  in  the  Ve- 
dantic  writings  of  the  ancient  Aryans.  In  In- 
dia, the  land  of  dreams  and  visions,  a  progeny 
of  miracles  has  influenced  the  mental  life  of  the 
people.  Myth-making  is  ingrained  in  Indian 
thought.  Sunworshipers,  fetich  believers,  ani- 
mists,  occultists,  Brahman,  Buddhist,  Moslem,  and 
now  the  Christian,  have  made  their  appeal  to  the 
inhabitants.  A  ghostly  procession  of  dead  faiths, 
lost  illusions,  living  superstitions,  an  exuberant 
crop  of  miracle  mongers,  have  walked  its  stage. 
The  ancient  myths  have  a  tremendous  vitality. 
They  seem  to  disappear  and  then  re-appear  in  a 
thousand  new  forms.  It  is  not  at  all  probable 


140     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

that  Christianity,  either  in  its  Romanized  or  Ger- 
manized aspects,  will  ever  be  adopted,  as  a  system, 
by  the  Indians.  Before  it  can  percolate  into 
the  national  consciousness,  it  must  be  modified;  it 
can  only  be  absorbed  as  the  upper  stratum  over- 
lying the  spiritual  deposits  of  the  ages.  At  pres- 
ent, only  some  seven  or  eight  in  a  thousand  of 
Hindus  accept  any  form  of  Christianity. 


It  is  an  old  proverb,  but  a  true  one:  "He  who 
would  bring  back  the  treasures  of  the  Indies  must 
carry  these  treasures  there  with  him."  India  is 
a  most  complex  country.  That  a  fleeting  tourist 
may  get  anything  but  an  unprofitable  gluttony 
of  the  eye,  from  a  brief  visit  here,  he  must  have  a 
bedrock  of  knowledge  of  Indian  history  and  in- 
stitutions. Even  with  this,  intellectual  honesty 
will  compel  him  to  admit  that  he  has  appropri- 
ated but  little  of  the  real  India.  A  very  intelli- 
gent Englishman,  who  had  been  in  official  life  in 
India  for  many  years,  said  to  me:  "In  my  long 
residence  here  I  have  visited  almost  every  place  of 
importance,  have  seen  the  notable  ruins  and  have 
tried  to  learn  something  of  India ;  but,  to  be 
honest,  I  feel  that  I  have  hardly  touched  it.  I 
know  next  to  nothing  about  it ;  and  I  do  not  know 
anyone  who  knows  more.  India  is  almost  beyond 
understanding." 


INDIA  141 

INDIAN    USAGES 

There  are  two  Calcuttas ;  one  that  of  English 
officials,  merchants,  bankers,  and  of  the  military 
class.  These  make  quite  a  parade  in  govern- 
ment buildings,  hotels,  clubrooms,  theaters,  auto- 
mobiles, business-circles  and  social  life. 

The  other  and  real  Calcutta  is  that  of  the  In- 
dians ;  it  is  an  immense  vortex  in  which  the  Eng- 
lish contingent  is  only  a  molecule.  Leave  the 
commercial  center  of  parks,  squares  and  western 
buildings;  go  into  the  so-called  native  quarters 
and  watch  their  surging  life.  You  will  find  that 
the  Indians  who  have  been  gathered  into  Cal- 
cutta, from  the  backwash  of  village  life,  by  the 
in-draught  of  the  capital  city,  are  essentially  as 
Oriental,  clannish  and  impervious  to  modern  im- 
pulses, as  their  forbears  were  centuries  ago.  Ex- 
cept among  the  educated  classes  and  native  of- 
ficials, few  Indians  have  rubbed  off  from  the  Eng- 
lish anything  below  the  surface.  Western 
thought  and  ideals  are  sprayed  into  foam  when 
they  break  against  Indian  conservatism  and 
superstitions.  As  his  fathers  were,  so  generally 
seems  to  be  the  Indian  of  to-day ;  encased  in  the 
same  immemorial  customs,  narrowed  by  the  same 
limitations  of  outlook;  trussed  up  in  the  same 
pride  of  caste ;  a  victim  to  many  of  the  same  hid- 
eous superstitions. 

Kalighat   Temple   is    one    of   the   most   sacred 


GOLDEN  WINDOW, OF  THE  EAST 

shrines  in  India:  devoted  to  the  worship  of  the 
mythical  goddess ;  Kali.  According  to  the  Indian 
myth,  when  her  body  was  dismembered  by  order 
of  the  gods,  one  of  her  fingers  dropped  to  the 
earth  at  this  spot.  It  is  believed  that  it  was  found 
and  that  it  is  now  preserved  in  a  golden  box 
behind  the  heart  of  the  idol  in  one  of  the  altars 
of  this  temple.  We  had  anticipated  seeing  an 
ornamental  building  which,  even  if  typifying  an 
obsolete  paganism,  would  represent  something  of 
noble  Indian  art.  What  a  disillusion  awaited  us. 
The  tramcar  took  us  through  a  filthy  Indian  vil- 
lage. A  Hindu  priest  escorted  us  through  the 
temple.  Everything  was  revolting.  Crowds  of 
frenzied  people  were  rushing  to  a  pond  of  muddy 
water  diverted  through  pipes  from  the  sacred 
Ganges.  All  plunged  into  the  dirty  pool,  utter- 
ing prayers  to  Eali.  Sacred  cows  wandered  in 
the  precincts  of  the  temple.  The  buildings  were 
small  and  ugly.  In  one  of  them  a  mass  of  wor- 
shipers, mostly  women,  were  drinking  and 
bottling  water  which  was  brought  into  the  temple 
from  the  pond,  frantically  grasping  it  and  invok- 
ing the  blessing  of  Kali. 

There  are  several  temples,  none  of  them  large. 
In  at  least  two  of  them  are  hideous  idols  of  Kali ; 
her  tongue  protruding  from  her  mouth.  In  the 
idol  where  the  mythical  finger  is  supposed  to  be 
boxed,  the  tongue  and  part  of  the  head  are  of 
gold.  Only  believers  are  allowed  to  enter  the 
inner  sanctuaries.  Hinduism  permits  the  admis- 


INDIA  143 

sion  of  no  converts.  It  is  a  birth-right  religion. 
Before  these  idols  worshipers  prostrated  them- 
selves and  prayed.  Their  castes  or  special  wor- 
ship were  indicated  by  a  streak  of  powder  or 
paint  traced  on  the  forehead. 

One  of  the  courts  was  running  with  blood  of 
goats,  sacrificed  by  their  owners  to  the  goddess. 
As  we  approached,  for  we  were  allowed  to  enter 
this  court,  a  goat  was  brought  in ;  one  priest  laid 
it  upon  the  stone  altar,  passing  its  head  under 
an  iron  frame;  another  priest  raised  the  sacri- 
ficial ax  and  chopped  off  the  head.  Our  priest--^ 
guide  told  us  that  generally  a  hundred  goats 
are  sacrificed  at  this  altar  each  day. 

The  courts  swarmed  with  mendicants.  A  leper 
thrust  out  his  handless,  fleshless  forearm  and  cried 
for  alms.  Wretched  creatures  touched  their  eye- 
less sockets,  or  rubbed  their  sores,  or  pointed  to 
paralyzed  limbs,  moaning  for  gifts.  All  sorts  of 
images  and  articles  of  Hindu  worship  were  of- 
ered  for  sale.  Wandering  minstrels  sang  invoca- 
tions to  Kali,  and  then  asked  to  be  paid  for  so 
doing.  The  sacred  cows  looked  fat  and  sleek; 
many  of  the  human  beings  degraded  and 
wretched.  The  stench  was  almost  unbearable; 
blood,  dust,  dirt,  slime  and  offal  contributing 
their  quota  to  the  reek. 

Many  of  the  worshipers  are  pilgrims,  often 
poor  people,  who  come  from  distant  provinces  of 
India  in  order  to  bathe  once  in  the  sacred  pond 
and  to  bow  before  the  finger  of  Kali. 


144     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  the  Hindu  or  Brah- 
manical  faith  numbers  more  than  200,000,000  ad- 
herents ;  two-thirds  of  the  population  of  India. 
There  are  some  60,000,000  Mohammedans  in 
India.  The  impact  of  Christian  missionaries 
and  the  religion  of  the  English  over-lords  have 
reached  more  of  the  lower  castes  or  the  outcasts 
than  the  upper  castes.  The  bulk  of  the  Indians 
are  petrified  in  the  social  strata  of  unknown  ages. 


Go  into  another  quarter  of  Calcutta,  where 
many  thousands  of  natives  live  and  carry  on  busi- 
ness. Such  precincts  in  Japan,  China,  Java,  the 
Malay  Peninsula  and  in  Egypt  have  a  mild  inter- 
est. They  are  bubbling  fountains  of  yellow  hu- 
manity: generally  tricked  out  in  colors,  with  lan- 
terns burning  or  with  bunting  flying.  Often 
they  are  dirty :  often  they  exhibit  ignoble  living. 
The  bazaars,  or  business  centers  of  native  shops 
in  Calcutta  lack  this  interest.  Their  color  may 
be  called  a  bitter-light.  The  people  look  wretch- 
edly poor,  unhealthy,  stunted.  They  stare  at 
the  stranger  with  vacuous  eyes.  Everything 
seems  somber  and  lack-luster.  The  filth  and  reek 
of  the  Orient  are  here:  all  that  is  squalid:  the 
charm  is  missing. 

It  is  of  some  interest  to  know  that  the  name 
Calcutta  is  a  corruption  of  the  word  Kalighat, 
the  river  bank  where  the  goddess  K'ali  is  wor- 
shiped and  where  the  finger  touched  the  earth. 


XIII 

INDIA 

(Continued) 

Know'st  thou  the  land  where  the  lemon-trees  bloom, 
Where  the  gold  orange  glows  in  the  deep  thicket's 

gloom, 

Where  a  wind  ever  soft  from,  the  blue  heaven  blows, 
And  the  groves  are  of  laurel  and  myrtle  and  rose? 

Goethe. 

THE   HIMALAYAS 

Few  countries  present  greater  diversities  of 
scenery  than  India.  In  a  few  hours  one  can  shift 
from  the  sunny  plains  of  Bengal  to  the  Hima- 
layan mountains,  which  begin  in  Nepaul,  Sikkim 
and  the  other  northern  provinces,  and  end  in  the 
great  plateau  of  Thibet.  The  upper  terminal 
station  of  the  railway  system  is  Darjeeling,  which 
is  about  380  miles  to  the  northward  of  Calcutta. 
The  railroad  carries  the  tourist  through  an  un- 
usual range  of  scenery.  Starting  from  Calcutta 
he  runs  along  the  plains  until  he  leaves  the  train 
for  a  steamer  which  crosses  the  Ganges.  As 
the  start  is  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  burn- 
ing sun  is  low  in  the  sky,  the  passage  over  the 
mysterious  river  is  in  the  early  evening.  When 

we  crossed,  the  moon  was  rising  and  throwing  a 
145 


146     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

phantom  splendor  on  the  water.  The  crossing 
being  diagonal,  there  was  a  distance  of  about  thir- 
teen miles  from  landing  to  landing;  much  of  it 
over  shoals.  Constant  soundings  .of  depths  are 
made,  as  the  channel  is  hardly  the  same  on  any 
two  successive  days.  The  station  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  Ganges  is  116  miles  from  Calcutta; 
that  on  the  other  side  is  called  Sari  Ghat.  At 
the  latter  station  we  took  sleepers,  uncomfortable 
enough  to  one  used  to  American  railway  service. 
No  bedding,  towels  or  soap  are  furnished  to  the 
passenger  on  any  of  the  Indian  railways. 

In  the  morning,  after  a  trying  night  in  the 
sleeper,  we  reached  Silliguri.  At  this  point,  we 
were  transferred  to  the  narrow  gauge  Darjeel- 
ing  Himalayan  Railway.  We  reached  Darj  eel- 
ing  after  a  run  of  nearly  six  hours  from  Silli- 
guri. The  gauge  of  the  mountain  railway  is 
only  two  feet.  Perhaps  the  railway  may  have 
its  counterpart  in  Switzerland,  California  or 
Colorado;  probably  in  Mexico;  but  it  certainly  is 
a  work  of  consummately  skillful  engineering. 


The  climb  to  Darjeeling,  which  is  nearly  7,000 
feet  above  the  sea-level,  is  full  of  surprises  and 
glimpses  of  magnificent  scenery.  The  Ganges, 
the  shining  plains  of  Bengal,  wandering  rivers, 
which  have  found  their  level  after  issuing  from 
the  mountain  gorges,  are  gradually  left  behind, 
as  the  lithe  train  springs  up  the  steep  highway. 


INDIA  147 

Before  us  were  the  hither  foot-hills  of  the  majestic 
Himalayas,  separated  by  glooming  valleys,  hir- 
sute with  trees.  We  cut  through  jungles  and  a 
wilderness  of  tropical  growths.  Soon  these 
ceased,  and  an  army  of  high  trees  lined  the 
track;  especially  of  the  ever-present  bamboo. 
Fruit  trees  were  sprayed  into  white  blossoms,  even 
in  mid-winter ;  ferns,  with  spreading  tendrils, 
were  climbing  on  walls  and  cliffs.  The  most  in- 
teresting of  all  the  vegetable  sights  was  the  tea 
plantations,  of  which  there  seemed  to  be  no  end. 
The  tea  is  planted  up  to  a  height  of  5,000  feet. 
Some  of  the  mountain-sides  were  entirely  utilized 
for  the  culture  of  this  crop.  We  were  told  that 
15,000,000  pounds  of  tea  are  harvested  annually 
in  this  region  of  diffuse  hills  and  curving  valleys. 
The  tea-plant  is  tough  enough  to  withstand  the 
cold  winds  that  sweep  down  from  the  mountains, 
and  finds  enough  nourishment  in  the  rocky  soil  to 
grow  into  vigorous  life  and  to  ripen. 

The  train  dashed  through  rock  cuttings ;  often 
dropped  into  waves  of  fog;  then  emerged  into 
the  brightness  of  Indian  sunshine.  A  consider- 
able part  of  the  track  runs  along  the  cart-road, 
which  was  built  by  the  government  for  the  pas- 
sage of  English  soldiers,  before  the  railway  was 
constructed.  Now  garrisons  are  stationed  at 
Darjeeling  and  several  other  places  near  by.  The 
main  military  use,  however,  of  this  region  is  as  a 
sanitarium  for  sufferers  from  fevers  so  often  con- 
tracted in  the  hot  plains.  Civilians  and  soldiers 


148     GOLDEN  WINDOW  QF  THE  EAST 

now  fly  to  this  great  reservoir  of  invigorating 
coolness.  Darjeeling  is  to  the  Province  of  Ben- 
gal what  Simla  is  to  the  court  retinue  of  British 
India — a  summer  residential  quarter. 

Sinking  into  seas  of  fog,  then  rising  from  them ; 
watching  the  cordon  of  stilted  mountains ;  look- 
ing down  upon  the  tin  roofs  of  the  cottages  of 
the  hillsmen;  gliding  through  Oriental  bazaars; 
seeing  here  and  there  a  missionary  station;  curl- 
ing around  loops  and  reverses  in  side-tracks,  when 
the  engine  twisted  in  coil  upon  coil  around  the 
flanks  of  a  mountain,  or  was  avoiding  an  abysmal 
canyon ;  hearing  the  gurgle  of  an  occasional 
waterfall  that  was  tumbling  down  a  sheer  cliff; 
then  the  train  was  stopped  at  Ghoom  station, — 
the  top-notch  of  the  railway  journey,  7,407  feet 
above  sea  level.  From  this  apex,  descending 
about  400  feet  in  a  distance  of  four  miles,  we 
perched  at  last  at  Darjeeling.  The  town  has 
about  30,000  people  and  a  considerable  number 
of  government  buildings,  boarding  schools,  mis- 
sionary stations,  military  cantonments  and  hos- 
pitals. It  is  built  upon  a  ridge,  around  which 
is  a  congeries  of  mountains  and  hills,  watered  by 
intersecting  rivers.  It  is  the  frontier  town  near 
the  divisional  line  between  British  India  and  In- 
dependent Sikkim. 


The  region  is  extremely  romantic.     It  is  diffi- 
cult    to     imagine     more     stupendous     mountain 


INDIA  149 

scenery.  The  Himalayas  are  the  highest  moun- 
tains in  the  world.  They  are  the  gathering 
ground  of  monsoons  and  fogs.  The  annual  rain- 
fall in  Darjeeling  is  about  125  inches. 

It  was  a  sharp  change  from  the  sultriness  of 
Calcutta  to  the  cold  of  Darjeeling,  where  the 
temperature  falls  twenty-five  degrees  in  a  night. 


All  travel  has  its  disappointments.  We  had 
made  the  tiresome  journey  for  the  purpose  of  see- 
ing the  monstrous  mountains  which  are  poetically 
called  "The  Roof  of  the  World."  We  were 
greedy  to  set  eyes  upon  the  highest  protuberances 
of  the  earth's  surface.  The  best  point  for  the 
observation  of  the  snow-crusted  Himalayas,  in  the 
neighborhood,  is  Tiger  Hill,  an  eminence  2,000 
feet  higher  than  Darjeeling,  about  six  miles  dis- 
tant from  it.  It  can  be  reached  by  pony  or  by 
a  sedan-chair,  locally  styled  "a  dandy,"  carried 
by  five  stalwart  mountaineer  natives.  So  we 
arose  at  three  o'clock  next  morning,  and  in  the 
cold  and  impenetrable  darkness  were  carried, 
some  on  ponies,  some  in  dandies,  to  Tiger  Hill. 
It  was  a  strange  journey,  in  desolate  silences, 
over  rough  hill-roads,  through  darkling  valleys. 
Our  desire  was  to  catch  the  glorious  sunrise  on 
the  supreme  mountains.  But,  alas  for  the  fal- 
laciousness of  human  hopes.  In  about  two  hours 
we,  chilled  to  the  marrow,  reached  Tiger  Hill, 
only  to  suffer  disappointment.  A  sheet  of  cloud 


150     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

and  fog  wrapped  the  mountains.  Our  vision 
could  penetrate  hardly  five  hundred  feet  from  the 
hill.  We  mounted  the  observation  tower,  shiv- 
ering with  cold,  while  the  clammy  fog  smutched 
our  faces.  The  fog  grew  thicker  and  thicker. 
All  we  could  do  was  to  swallow  our  regret  and  re- 
turn to  the  hotel.  It  should  be  said  that,  even 
from  Tiger  Hill,  it  is  rare  to  see  more  than  a 
shadowy  outline  of  Mount  Everest,  the  world's 
bumper  mountain,  28,994  feet  high.  It  must  be 
seen  mostly  "in  the  mind's  eye" ;  but  Kinchen- 
junga,  28,156  feet  high,  the  nearest  rival  to  Ever- 
est, is  often  seen ;  also  a  line  of  other  peaks  con- 
nected by  ragged  drifts  of  everlasting  snows, 
even  in  Darjeeling.  At  times,  more  than  twelve 
peaks  may  be  counted,  each  rising  above  20,000 
feet. 

KINCHENJUNGA 

We  stayed  four  days  at  Darjeeling,  waiting 
for  the  drying  of  the  fog.  Only  once  did  we 
catch  a  glimpse  of  Kinchenjunga;  that  had  to 
suffice ;  and  it  was  very  much.  If  we  failed  to  see 
all  that  we  had  anticipated,  it  was  a  good  deal  to 
see  the  second  highest  mountain  in  the  world. 
The  setting  was  magnificent.  The  fog  was  lap- 
ping the  valleys.  The  sun  was  fighting  its  way 
through  the  misty  shrouds.  Ranges  of  moun- 
tains now  tossed  off  the  fog  as  a  feather ;  then  the 
fog  again  crept  over  their  disgraced  faces.  It 
was  a  wild  carousal  of  wind,  sun,  mist  and  cloud. 


INDIA  151 

On  the  sudden,  as  we  peered  upward  into  the 
northern  sky,  there  was  a  rift  in  the  clouds. 
They  slunk  away  for  a  few  minutes,  as  though 
the  Great  Spirit  had  breathed  upon  them.  In 
the  rift,  serene  and  shining,  Kinchenjunga  raised 
its  awful,  jagged  head;  dressed  in  a  white  veil  of 
eternal  snows.  Glittering,  with  folds  of  light  pass- 
ing into  billows  of  startling  glory  poured  out 
from  some  fountain  of  the  sky;  "clothed  in  white 
samite,  mystic,  wonderful";  opulent  in  all  that 
makes  veracious  majesty,  the  proud  mountain 
smiled  upon  us  for  a  few  minutes. 

The  glorious  vision,  ephemeral  as  a  meteor, 
seemed  almost  an  illusion ;  "some  false  creation, 
proceeding  from  the  heat-oppressed  brain" ;  a 
phantasmagoria;  a  dream.  But  no;  Kinchen- 
junga was  there  with  its  canopies  of  snow.  We 
knew  that,  beneath  its  white  crown,  11,000  feet  of 
perpetual  snow  were  resting.  There  was  the 
mountain,  ringed  high  in  the  breathless  air,  dis- 
daining the  impudent  fogs  and  clouds  that  sucked 
away  at  its  breast,  and  drained  the  heat  of  its 
ally,  the  sun. 

The  giant  mountain  triumphed  over  its  vapor- 
ous foes  only  for  a  few  minutes.  Soon  the  fog 
furrowed  its  face;  then,  once  more,  all  was  gray 
mist. 

THE    HILLSMEN 

Superb  as  is  the  mountain  scenery  in  Darj eel- 
ing  and  vicinity,  there  are  other  interests  for  the 


152     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

tourist.  The  human  element  is  an  alloy  of  many 
races  of  rude,  uncouth  hillsmen.  It  is  a  jumble 
of  humankind  of  which  the  Western  world  is  gen- 
erally ignorant.  Here  are  the  Nepaulese  from 
Nepaul,  the  Moslem  from  Kashmir,  the  Thibetan, 
who  has  migrated  from  the  vast  un-charted  high- 
lands of  Thibet:  other  ancient  races  are  the 
Bhootias  from  Bhootan,  and  the  Pathans.  Most 
of  these  peoples, — and  others  whom  it  is  hard  to 
name, — are  intense  Buddhists ;  and  their  Budd- 
hism is  mixed  with  old  superstitions.  Their 
shrines  are  on  many  hills.  A  common  sight  is 
that  of  handkerchiefs  and  pieces  of  cloth  hanging 
from  trees  or  clothes-lines,  on  which  their  prayers 
are  written.  The  people  believe  that  the  winds 
fluttering  their  prayer-cloths  will  transmit  their 
seekings  to  their  divinities.  Bhootan  and  Thibet 
furnish  a  host  of  lamas  or  Buddhistic  priests. 
These  also  act  as  doctors ;  but  their  practice  is  of 
the  most  approved  form  of  faith-cure.  The  lama 
has  no  scientific  knowledge  of  medicine ;  he  at- 
tempts cures  by  prayers  and  incantations ;  all  the 
patient  needs  to  do  is  to  have  faith.  What  a  de- 
lightfully simple  theory;  how  much  easier  than 
surgical  operations  and  drugs. 

he  Dalai  Lama,  whom  the  Chinese  have  ex- 
pelled from  Thibet,  is  now  living  in  Darjeeling. 
He  is  regarded  as  the  re-incarnation  of  Buddha; 
and  is  reverenced  by  the  simple-minded  hillsmen 
as  a  god.  Crowds  of  pilgrims  pour  down,  on 


INDIA  153 

foot  or  on  horseback,  through  the  mountain 
passes  of  Thibet,  to  gaze  upon  his  heavenly  coun- 
tenance and  have  his  blessing.  A  caravan  of 
Thibetans  or  Bhootias  is  a  strange  picture;  peo- 
ple with  brown  faces ;  ears,  noses,  often  feet  hung 
with  rude  jewels;  coarse  clothing,  sometimes  very 
dirty.  The  pilgrims  swing  their  prayer-wheels 
and,  with  interminable  iteration,  mutter  their 
prayer,  om-mani-padmi-om :  "Hail  to  the 
prince  of  the  lotus  and  jewel."  This  is  droned 
by  lamas  and  pilgrims  from  morning  to  night. 
Their  fanaticism  seems  harmless.  In  the  yard  of 
the  Dalai  Lama's  house  we  saw  swarms  of  pil- 
grims, men,  women,  and  children,  dressed  in  wild 
garb,  who  had  come  hundreds  of  miles  to  bow  be- 
fore their  spiritual  lord.  Ignorant,  childish, 
primitive ;  these  pilgrims  regard  their  lama  as  the 
link  that  connects  their  squalid  lives  with  the  di- 
vine. 

A    SUNDAY    BAZAAR 

Sunday  is  the  day  for  the  bazaar,  or  outdoor 
market.  What  a  scene  it  was.  From  the  early 
morning  peasants  came  thronging  into  Darj  eel- 
ing  with  their  produce  and  wares.  Squatted  on 
the  ground,  with  their  goods  exposed  on  mats 
before  them,  smoking  cigarettes  or  pipes  of  enor- 
mous size,  they  awaited  customers.  Some  women 
were  loaded  so  heavily  with  jewelry  and  trinkets 
that  one  almost  wondered  how  they  could  stand 
up  under  the  burden,  especially  as  many  carried 


154     GOLDEN  WINDOW.  OF  THE  EAST 

babies  on  their  backs.  What  a  hub-bub  of  chat- 
ter; what  higgling  and  huckstering.  The  un- 
wary tourist  was  common  prey.  Every  native 
had  something  to  sell  to  him;  articles  which 
seem  to  belong  to  the  realm  of  hobgobblin  life. 
Many  of  them  have  a  religious  significance.  The 
price  asked  at  first  is  outrageous;  the  seller  does 
not  expect  to  get  it.  Make  him  or  her  but  one 
offer  and  you  will  be  followed  as  by  a  pack  of 
wolves.  Everyone  who  has  the  same  article  for 
sale  thrusts  it  into  your  face;  this  process  goes 
on  until  you  buy  or  wave  all  the  pestiferous  crowd 
away. 

Thibetan  and  Bhootian  women  have  a  hard  lot. 
They  are  muscular;  nearly  as  large  and  strong 
as  the  men.  They  do  the  hardest  kind  of  work, 
that  demanding  the  most  physical  exertion. 
They  act  as  porters  at  the  hotels ;  strap  a  trunk 
or  heavy  bag  on  their  backs ;  fasten  the  strap 
around  their  foreheads,  and  tug  up  the  steep  hill. 
Often  an  empty-handed  man  may  be  seen  follow- 
ing them.  Women  work  on  the  roads,  and  even 
little  girls  break  stone  and  carry  it  on  their  backs 
for  a  long  distance.  Surely  in  the  sweat  of  their 
face  do  these  rugged  women  eat  their  bread. 
They  turn  their  prayer-wheels,  then  repeat  the 
charmed  words  endlessly,  drudge,  moil,  dig  and 
bend  under  weary  burdens.  Their  pleasure  seems 
to  come  from  maternity,  from  chewing  the  betel 
leaf  and  from  the  weekly  bazaar.  Hither  they 
trudge  from  their  lonely  cabins  on  the  hillsides, 


INDIA  155 

carrying  something1  which  they  have  raised  or 
made.  A  bazaar  is  a  revealer  of  the  inner  life  of 
the  peasantry.  There  is  a  wildness  in  it  which 
approaches  picturesqueness. 

MOUNTAIN   SCENERY 

The  last  day  of  our  visit  at  Darjeeling  gave 
a  promise  of  a  sun-burst,  which  would  dissipate 
the  snubbing  fogs  and  open  the  Himalayan  range 
to  our  straining  eyes ;  but  Kinchenjunga  (a 
Hindu  told  us  that  the  name  means  "the  chain 
of  gold"),  like  a  Moslem  woman,  did  not  unveil 
her  white  face.  Our  glimpse  of  her  had  been  a 
sort  of  penny-in-a-slot  affair.  Four  days  of 
waiting;  one  brief  view.  The  next  day, — ah, 
what  a  fateful  word  to-morrow  is, — a  day  that 
never  comes,  for  it  reaches  us  dressed  as  to-day, 
— we  were  told  that  the  fog  lifted  for  a  while. 

How  true  are  the  poet's  words :  "Tis  distance 
lends  enchantment  to  the  view."  To  see  Kinchen- 
junga at  a  distance  of  forty  miles,  when  every 
facet  of  its  immense  bulk  is  transfigured  into 
silver;  when  a  lacing  of  snow  chastens  every  pin- 
nacle and  freckle,  every  thrust  of  cliff  and  jag, 
every  distortion, — into  a  symmetry  of  phenom- 
enal beauty, — is  a  delight  to  the  eye.  But  what 
would  an  ascent  of  the  mountain  mean?  what 
beauty  could  there  be  in  a  close  view?  Then,  the 
mountain  would  lose  its  harmony.  It  would  be 
found  to  be  a  chaos  of  cliffs,  valleys,  spurs,  pla- 
teaus, torrents,  sheeted  ice;  of  sides  scoriated  by 


156     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

frost  and  snow;  of  treacherous  glaciers  and 
moraines;  of  sunless  valleys  and  scarped  chasms. 
All  sense  of  harmony  would  disappear;  all  would 
return  to  the  formless  and  void.  It  is  distance 
which  furnishes  the  index  and  correlates  the  limbs 
of  the  giant. 

All  the  story  writers  have  always  made  giants 
stupid;  dwarfs  cunning.  Few  of  the  world's 
greatest  men  have  been  over-large  in  size.  Bulk 
is  not  power,  unless  directed  by  a  co-ordinating 
intelligence.  The  gnat  that  flies  in  the  air,  the 
little  bird  that  wings  its  solitary  way  through 
the  silences  of  the  Himalayas,  has  more  dynamic 
power  than  Kinchenjunga.  They  are  vital; 
the  mountain  is  inert,  a  mass  of  sodden  rock  and 
dirt.  The  snows  must  wash  its  dirty  face;  the 
winds  must  fan  the  circling  mists  away ;  the  sun- 
light must  paint  each  part,  as  an  arc  in  a  circle 
of  delight;  the  human  eye  must  interpret  the 
whole,  from  the  brain, — and  then,  beauty,  light, 
harmony,  purpose,  come  into  action;  and 
the  mass  of  rubbish,  ice  and  rock,  becomes  radiant 
as  a  vision  of  the  New  Jerusalem  descending  from 
heaven  upon  earth.  Kinchenjunga  came  and 
went  before  our  eyes  like  an  exhalation,  a  mi- 
rage, a  fire-fly,  an  air-bubble ;  but  it  was  an  over- 
whelming reality. 

CALCUTTA    AGAIN 

On  our  return  from  Darjeeling  to  Calcutta, 
we  crossed  the  Ganges  at  sunrise.  A  burst  of 


INDIA  157 

flame,  burning  through  the  chilling  air,  enfolded 
river  and  plain  under  a  burnish  of  gold. 

Our  second  visit  in  Calcutta  furnished  an  op- 
portunity to  visit  an  ornate  Jain  Temple,  and 
to  make  a  more  careful  examination  of  the  Mu- 
seum. This  is  a  rich  collection  of  Asiatic  relics, 
curios,  arts  and  religious  emblems.  It  is 
especially  rich  in  a  collection  of  the  handiwork 
of  Thibet,  and  the  region  from  which  we  had 
just  returned.  We  saw  that  the  hillsmen  have  a 
sense  of  art  and  a  cunning  of  the  hand  in  the 
manufacture  of  textiles  and  working  of  metals, 
which  indicate  a  higher  order  of  mentality  than 
their  squalid  life  and  infantile  ways  had  revealed 
to  us. 


XIV 

INDIA 

(Continued) 

The  fair  humanities  of  old  religion, 
The  power,  the  beauty,  and  the  majesty, 
That  had  their  haunts  in  dale  or  piny  mountain, 
Or  forest  by  slow  stream,  or  pebbly  spring, 
Or  chasms  and  watery  depths, — all  these  have  van- 
ished : 
They  live  no  longer  in  the  faith  of  reason. 

Coleridge. 

BENARES,    THE    HOLY    CITY 

From  Calcutta  it  was  a  ride  of  one  night  to  Ben- 
ares on  the  Ganges :  the  city  sacred  to  the  ancient 
Hindu  faith.  Except  for  its  religious  symbol- 
ism, there  is  little  of  interest  in  Benares.  Its  na- 
tive quarters  are  dirty  in  the  extreme;  its  indus- 
tries are  primitive.  But  it  is,  nevertheless,  a  city 
of  great  renown.  At  least  a  million  pilgrims 
visit  it  every  year.  There  is  never  a  day  when 
long  lines  of  turbaned  heads  and  naked  feet  may 
not  be  seen  on  its  streets :  of  Indians  who  have 
come  from  far  and  near  to  find  cleansing  in  the 
sacred  waters  of  the  Ganges. 

The  religious  element  enters  most  seriously  in 
158 


INDIA  159 

Indian  life.  It  is  the  wedge  that  separates  races : 
the  fulcrum  upon  which  native  authority  rests: 
it  controls  education,  aligns  castes,  determines 
the  status  of  women,  and  reduces  one-sixth  of  the 
population  to  the  degrading  condition  of  pariahs, 
or  outcasts.  It  has  been  the  source  of  mon- 
strous fanaticism:  such  as  thuggery,  sutteeism, 
or  the  burning  of  widows  on  their  husbands'  fu- 
neral pyres ;  child-widowhood ;  infanticide ;  the 
perversions  of  fakirs ;  the  juggernaut ;  and  self- 
mutilation.  Some  of  these  monstrosities  in  a 
milder  form  were  known  to  early  and  medieval 
Christianity.  They  spring  from  an  excessive 
asceticism,  or  principle  of  renunciation.  English 
law  has  suppressed  dangerous  forms  of  fanaticism 
in  India:  education,  a  common  industrial  purpose, 
and  a  growth  of  the  social  conscience,  will  tone 
down  these  extravagancies  which  are  the  spawn 
of  intellectual  degradation. 


Let  us  imagine  ourselves  in  a  river-boat  on  the 
Ganges,  following  the  shore  line  of  Benares,  at  an 
early  hour  in  the  morning.  As  we  have  ridden 
from  the  hotel,  we  have  passed  crowds  of  pilgrims 
hastening  to  the  bathing  ghats,  where  the  ab- 
lutions are  performed.  When  we  walked  down 
the  steps  of  the  ghat  and  entered  the  boat,  early 
as  it  was,  we  found  thousands  ahead  of  us. 
What  a  living  picture  was  unrolled  before  our 
eyes;  such  as  can  be  seen  nowhere  but  in  India. 


160     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

There  are  five  special  bathing  ghats  for  pil- 
grims: some  of  them  simple,  some  ornate.  The 
rajahs  of  Indian  provinces  and  wealthy  natives 
have  built  a  long  line  of  palaces  along  the  river 
bank.  In  front  of  these  are  the  ghats ;  stone 
steps  lead  down  to  the  water;  some  ghats  have 
pavilions ;  others  huge  umbrellas ;  some,  wicker 
cages ;  a  few  have  houses ;  all  these  for  the  se- 
clusion of  high-caste  women  whose  faces  may 
never  be  seen  outside  their  households. 

Let  us  watch  the  crowds  streaming  down  the 
stone  steps  of  the  several  ghats.  All  ages,  sizes, 
many  races,  are  represented.  Every  face  is 
swarthy ;  so  bright  colors  in  raiment  prevail. 
What  a  flutter  of  gaudy  silks  and  satins  as  a 
high-caste  crowd  approaches ;  almost  every  color 
dances  in  the  wind ;  the  flowing  outer  garments 
are  dashed  from  the  person,  laid  down  on  the 
steps,  and  the  wearer  appears  in  bathing  clothes. 
Every  bather  carries  a  brightly  polished  metallic 
urn,  in  which  to  preserve  some  of  the  holy  liquid. 
Some  throw  wreaths  of  yellow  flowers  into  the 
river  before  they  enter.  Most  of  the  bathers 
engage  in  silent  prayer  or  meditation  for  a  mo- 
ment before  plunging. 

Here  comes  a  hurrying  crowd  of  dust-stained 
pilgrims,  perhaps  from  some  remote  part  of  In- 
dia; no  doubt,  foot-sore  and  jaded.  This  is  to  be 
their  first  bath  in  the  holy  river;  but  they  cannot 
take  the  plunge  until  they  can  show  a  priest's 
certificate  that  they  have  made  a  circuit  of  all  the 


INDIA  161 

shrines  in  Benares,  along  the  holy  roads  fringed 
with  trees.  This  penance  imposes  a  walk  of 
forty-five  miles,  which  requires  five  days.  All 
this  self-imposed,  rigorous  labor  is  more  than  re- 
paid by  the  zealot's  heavenly  anticipation  of  his 
first  purifying  bath;  which  will  wash  away  his 
sins  and  help  to  prepare  him  for  eternal  felicity. 
They  rush  down  the  steps,  with  hot  zeal;  jump 
into  the  river;  plunge  and  plunge,  again  and 
again  ;  inhale  the  water ;  suck  it  into  their  mouths  ; 
spurt  it  back  into  the  river;  pray  while  they  are 
bathing;  throw  themselves  on  the  river's  bosom; 
pass  the  water  between  their  hands;  probably 
drink  some  of  it,  turbid  as  it  is.  Such  scenes  are 
going  on  simultaneously  at  many  ghats. 

The  favorite  hour  for  bathing  is  at  sunrise. 
As  the  sun  flames  across  the  river  in  the  eastern 
skies,  many  bathers  slowly  pour  out  a  libation 
from  their  urns ;  stand  and  watch  the  sun-god  in 
silent  adoration,  as  the  river  reddens  under  the 
solar  rays ;  when  the  vessel  is  emptied,  dip  it  full 
again,  and  retreat  up  the  steps,  keeping  face 
towards  the  sun. 

All  the  river  cities  in  India  have  burning  ghats, 
where  dead  bodies  are  cremated.  We  visited  one 
in  Calcutta,  and  saw  the  body  of  a  sweet-faced, 
lustrous-eyed  boy  crackling  in  the  fire.  Around 
it  were  a  crowd  of  men  and  boys, — very  likely  his 
nearest  relatives, — not  one  of  whom  showed  the 
slightest  emotion.  No  woman  was  present.  The 
men  seemed  pleased  to  show  us  the  un-edifying 


162    GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

sight  and,  as  we  were  leaving,  demanded  money; 
picked  up  some  calcined  bones  and  tried  to  sell 
them  to  us.  The  vulgarity  and  heartlessness 
of  the  whole  performance  were  the  repelling  parts. 
Probably  this  method  of  disposing  of  corpses 
is  wise  in  a  climate  like  that  of  India. 

On  the  ghats  at  Benares,  we  saw  the  smoke 
rising  from  the  pyres  where  some  of  India's  teem- 
ing millions  were  undergoing  combustion,  after 
life's  fitful  fever  was  over.  The  bodies  of  animals, 
and  sometimes  those  of  children,  are  cast  into  the 
Ganges. 

As  we  left  the  bathing  ghats,  we  observed  a 
small  crowd  of  natives  gathered  at  a  street  corner. 
A  grave-faced  clergyman,  whose  garb  showed  that 
he  was  of  the  ministry  of  the  Church  of  England, 
and  an  Indian  convert  were  holding  services  in 
the  native  language.  The  native  preacher  made 
a  short  exhortation,  after  which  they  sang  in 
duet  a  Christian  hymn,  which  we  could  not  under- 
stand in  its  alien  version.  The  crowd  seemed 
to  take  but  languid  interest. 

As  all  religions  spring  from  the  same  source, 
man's  struggle  to  connect  his  poor  being  with  the 
eternal,  perhaps  a  better  method  of  solving  the 
problem  would  be  to  emphasize  those  points  which 
all  religions  have  in  common ;  to  purge  supersti- 
tions, to  lead  away  from  degrading  rites  which 
belong  to  the  dark  ages,  to  teach  the  dignity  of 
human  character,  and  to  enrich  the  residual  value 
of  all  faiths — a  spiritualized  morality.  But  the 


INDIA  163 

problem  is  terribly  vast.  At  all  events  religion 
is  a  growth.  Its  roots  must  be  imbedded  in  the 
recesses  of  national  consciousness. 

THE    MONKEY    AND     GOLDEN     TEMPLES 

The  Benares  of  to-day  is  not  ancient.  Con- 
quest and  ruin  have  several  times  rifted  its  life 
and  torn  away  the  old  landmarks.  When  the 
stranger  sees  the  mud  huts  of  the  natives,  he  can 
easily  see  also  how  unsubstantial  an  ancient  city 
was.  Like  Memphis  and  Thebes  of  the  Egypt 
of  the  Pharaohs,  built  of  baked  mud,  a  wash  of 
war,  a  pestilence,  a  catastrophe,  a  massacre, 
work  ruin  in  a  short  time.  So  Benares  has  been 
uneasy  in  its  location.  It  has  not  been  a  con- 
tinuing city.  It  now  has  no  temples  or  build- 
ings more  than  a  few  hundred  years  old.  Dingy, 
blistered,  they  are  only  of  fungus  growth.  Amer- 
ica has  buildings  nearly  as  old. 

Two  temples  of  the  Hindu  faith  are  the  cen- 
ter of  religious  interest  in  Benares ; — the  Durga, 
or  Monkey  Temple,  and  the  Bisheswar,  or  Golden 
Temple.  Both  are  hideous  expressions  of 
idolatry.  In  the  former,  the  monkey  is  the 
sacred  animal.  The  impish  creatures  grin  and 
scamper  through  the  courts  of  the  temple,  fed  by 
the  priests  from  offerings  of  worshipers.  In 
the  latter,  the  cow  and  bull  are  sacred.  Thou- 
sands of  worshipers  throng  its  courts  and  bow 
at  the  altars.  In  the  outer  court  there  is  the 
statue  of  a  bull,  garlanded  with  wreaths.  The 


164     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

live  cow  and  bull  are  in  the  holy  of  holies.  A 
gilded  tower,  which  is  really  a  work  of  art,  gives 
to  the  temple  its  popular  name. 

f  '.HINDUISM    AND    THEOSOPHY 

Benares  is  an  educational  center.  Many 
schools  are  maintained ;  some  endowed,  some  pub- 
lic. A  Hindu  College  was  endowed  by  a  rich 
native  for  the  instruction  of  young  men  in  the 
ancient  faith.  Here  some  1,500  youths  are  gath- 
ered from  all  parts  of  India.  A  very  intelligent 
young  Brahman  conducted  us  through  it.  His 
mind  was  quick  and  responsive :  his  English  excel- 
lent. His  interpretation  of  the  relation  of 
Hinduism  to  modern  thought  showed  that  the 
scientific  leaven  is  working  in  the  best  minds  of 
India.  He  has  rationalized  the  faith  of  his 
fathers,  as  many  Christians  have  done  with  some 
of  the  legends  of  the  Bible. 

Near  this  college  is  the  Theosophical  School 
conducted  by  that  remarkable  woman,  Mrs.  An- 
nie Besant,  and  her  assistants.  We  hoped  to 
meet  her  and  to  learn  something  of  the  relation 
of  Hinduism,  with  its  belief  in  re-incarnation,  to 
modern  Theosophy;  but  failed  to  do  so.  One  of 
her  assistants  explained  to  us  that  Theosophists 
believe  that  Hinduism  has  retained  more  of  orig- 
inal truth,  revealed  by  God  to  primitive  man,  Q 
than  any  other  religion:  Theosophy  sought  to 
change  no  man's  faith,  but  to  clear  all  faiths  of 
error  and  teach  the  everlasting  nature  of  per- 


\ 


INDIA  165 

sonality,  the  cycles  of  being,  and  the  re-incarna- 
tion of  every  life.  India  is  indeed  a  congenial 
home  for  such  a  faith. 

CAWNPORE    AND    LUCKNOW 

Of  these  cities,  Cawnpore  is  unattractive;  Luck- 
now  is  very  attractive;  a  city  of  fine  homes,  spa- 
cious avenues  and  parks,  many  public  buildings. 

Both  cities  have  their  historical  interest  from 
their  close  relation  with  the  awful  Indian  Mutiny 
of  1857. 

In  Cawnpore  occurred  the  massacre  of  the  Eng- 
lish garrison,  which  had  surrendered  under  the 
promise  of  safety  from  Nana,  the  rebel  leader, 
one  of  the  vilest  names  in  Indian  history; —  and 
the  unspeakable  massacre  of  125  women  and  chil- 
dren. Even  the  mutinous  Sepoys  refused  to  do 
this  bloody  work;  butchers  were  turned  into  the 
building  where  the  helpless  prisoners  were  con- 
fined. All  were  murdered  with  knives  or  swords ; 
their  corpses  were  dragged  to  and  thrown  into  a 
well.  There  they  remain.  The  ghastly  place  of 
sepulture  is  now  enclosed  by  a  screen-fence  of 
stone;  over  the  well  stands  a  marble  figure,  with 
outstretched  arms,  each  holding  a  palm,  of  the 
Angel  of  the  Resurrection.  Over  the  gate-way  in 
the  screen  is  the  legend :  "These  are  they  which 
came  out  of  great  tribulation."  It  should  be 
said  that,  shocking  as  the  butchery  was,  no 
woman  was  violated.  Naturally,  the  English 
took  terrible  vengeance  on  the  murderers.  A  me- 


166     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

morial  church  now  stands  in  the  grounds  of  the 
Cawnpore  residency,  in  which  are  tablets  on  which 
are  engraved  the  names  of  the  officers  and  men 
massacred  by  the  cruel  Nana  and  his  army. 

Cawnpore  is  surely  a  place  of  sad  memories. 

Its  present  importance  is  as  a  trade  center. 
Its  bazaar  or  market  is  vast.  A  moving  crowd 
of  merchants  and  peddlers  comes  and  goes  on 
every  train.  The  Oriental  is  indifferent  to  time. 
He  calmly  lies  down  for  hours,  even  all  night,  on 
the  platforms  near  the  station,  or  on  the  ground ; 
wraps  himself  in  his  blanket,  and  awaits  the  com- 
ing or  going  of  the  train  as  mildly  as  though 
time  was  of  no  moment. 

Lucknow  has  a  Residency  of  impressive  his- 
torical interest.  Here  we  were  shown  through 
the  fort  where  the  English  garrison  sustained 
with  incredible  heroism  the  long  and  frightful 
siege  of  the  mutineers.  A  recital  of  this  great 
test  of  endurance  is  blood-stirring.  Here  Law- 
rence was  killed;  here  the  noble  Havelock  wore 
himself  out  and  died;  here  were  tears  and  heart- 
breaks ;  sleepless  nights,  anxious  days,  hunger 
and  thinned  ranks ;  here  Jennie,  the  Scotch  lassie, 
had  her  famous  dream ;  here  all  seemed  lost  and 
the  hapless  garrison — only  a  remnant  of  which 
was  left — with  the  women  and  children,  would 
have  shared  the  fate  of  their  countrymen  at 
Cawnpore,  had  not  the  English  army  at  last  suc- 
cored them. 

Great  reading  is  the  record  of  the  English  §ol- 


INDIA  167 

diery  in  the  Mutiny.  A  little  more  than  a  half- 
century  has  intervened.  Now  all  is  peace.  Birds 
sing;  flowers  gush;  the  fields  are  carpeted  in 
green;  all  bloodstains  are  washed  away.  A  new 
India  is  rising.  The  Sikhs,  once  mutinous,  form 
a  large  part  of  the  loyal  native  army.  The 
Gourkhas  are  as  loyal  and  true  now  as  then. 

AI/LAHABAD 

On  our  way  from  Benares  to  Cawnpore,  we 
paused  a  few  hours  at  Allahabad.  This  city  is 
situated  at  the  confluence  of  the  Ganges  and 
Jumna  rivers.  It  is  one  of  the  sacred  cities  of 
India.  The  week  before  we  were  there,  one  of 
the  sacred  weeks  in  the  Hindu  faith,  according 
to  the  newspapers,  at  least  2,000,000  pilgrims 
bathed  in  the  Ganges  there.  Allahabad  figured 
in  the  Indian  Mutiny.  It  is  a  fortified  city ;  the 
wall  having  been  built  by  Akbar,  the  greatest  of 
Moghul  emperors.  The  city  is  an  educational 
center.  It  has  little  to  interest  a  tourist. 
Within  the  fort  lines  is  one  of  the  Asoka  pillars. 
Asoka  was  an  Indian  emperor,  who  attempted 
to  unite  all  the  people  of  India  under  the  Bud-  - 
dhistic  faith ;  and  for  that  purpose  caused  stone 
pillars  to  be  erected  in  many  places  in  India,  on 
each  of  which  were  legends  containing  religious 
ascriptions. 

SARNATH 

When  at  Benares,  we  rode  out  to  the  buried 
city  of  Sarnath,  where  many  Buddhistic  remains 


168     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

have  been  exhumed.  Here  we  saw  another  of  the 
Asoka  pillars.  Tradition  relates  that  Buddha 
here  preached  his  first  sermon,  after  his  illumina- 
tion, also  that,  at  one  time,  there  were  1,000 
Buddhistic  temples  here.  Buddhism  had  faded 
out  as  a  system  in  Indian  life,  even  before  the 
Mohammedan  conquest.  The  finishing  stroke 
came  to  Sarnath,  when  Aurungzebe,  the  last  of 
the  really  powerful  Moghul  Emperors,  reduced  to 
ashes  all  the  temples  and  memorials  of  Buddha,  in 
this  spot  once  so  sacred. 

Buddhism  lingers  by  absorption  in  much  of 
Hinduism ;  but,  as  a  system,  it  fled  to  the  outly- 
ing provinces,  Ceylon,  Nepaul,  Bunnah,  Siam  and 
Thibet,  Like  the  Prince  of  Peace,  the  Light  of 
Asia  was  disowned  in  his  native  land. 


XV 

INDIA. 

(Continued) 

Think,   in   this   batter'd   caravanserai 
Whose  portals  are  alternate  night  and  day, 
How   sultan   after  sultan  with   his   pomp 
Abode  his  destin'd  hour,  and  went  his  way. 

Rubaiyat. 

AGRA 

Agra  and  Delhi  rank  high  among  the  most  in- 
teresting cities  of  the  world.  Both  were  capitals 
of  the  Moghul  Empire.  About  the  year  1,000 
the  Mohammedan  invasion  of  India  began  with 
Mahmud,  "Allah-breathing  Lord,"  and  was  un- 
ceasing, until  Timour,  or  Tamerlane,  led  his  Mon- 
golian hosts  from  the  mountains  and  plains  of 
Central  Asia,  with  merciless  savagery ;  returned  in 
triumph,  leaving  behind  him  pillaged  cities,  myr- 
iads of  murdered  Indians,  and  carrying  back  im- 
mense booty.  Timour's  successors  conquered  and 
lived  in  a  large  part  of  India ;  founded  the  Mog- 
hul Empire,  which  probably  was  the  most 
splendid  in  architecture  and  barbaric  magnificence 
that  human  history  has  known.  Some  of  the 

Moghul    Emperors,    notably    Baber    and    Akbar, 
169 


170     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

were  men  of  great  ability.  They  built  palaces 
and  mosques  of  almost  inestimable  cost.  Most  of 
India  lay  at  their  feet ;  the  old  civilization  was 
passing;  their  power  was  unlimited;  their  sub- 
jects were  their  slaves. 

The  greatest  builders  among  the  Moghul  Em- 
perors were  Akbar  the  Great  and  Shahjahan.  It 
is  mainly  the  mosques,  tombs,  forts  and  palaces 
built  by  those,  say  from  the  middle  of  the  16th 
to  the  last  of  the  17th  century,  which  excite  the 
admiration  of  tourists. 

In  Agra  and  Delhi  those  emperors  spent  money 
with  lavish  hand.  The  style  of  architecture  re- 
sembles the  Moorish  and  Arabic.  Some  of  the 
mosques  suggest  the  round-domed  Greek  Ortho- 
dox churches  in  Russia.  French  and  Italian 
architects  assisted  Indian  and  Moghul  skill. 
Their  names  have  passed  into  oblivion.  "The 
bubble  reputation"  nowhere  bursts  into  thin  air 
more  quickly  than  in  architecture.  Few  care  for 
the  name  of  the  architect  of  a  noble  building. 
We  gaze  admiringly  upon  his  handiwork:  we  are 
not  inerested  to  know  whose  subtle  brain  and  deft 
hand  created  it  from  gross  materials ;  who 
breathed  on  stone  and  metal,  and,  lo,  they  re- 
solved themselves  into  surpassing  beauty.  The 
created  thing  outlives  the  creator.  His  memory 
is  writ  in  water. 

THE    TAJ    MAHAL 

Father  Hennepin,  when  he  burst  into  the  wilder- 


INDIA  171 

ness,  and  saw  before  him  the  wonders  of  Niagara 
Falls,  exclaimed:  "There  is  but  one  Niagara." 
So  there  is  but  one  Taj  Mahal.  It  is  so  super- 
latively beautiful  that  perhaps  it  would  not  be 
right  for  the  earth  to  have  even  its  duplicate. 
Agra  has  the  architectural  wonder  of  the  world. 
"The  cloud-capped  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces, 
the  solemn  temples"  of  other  lands  are  pale  be- 
side its  ineffable  loveliness. 

A  tender  sentiment,  a  husband's  love  for  his 
wife:  Shahjahan's  love  for  his  Persian  wife, 
Mumtaz,  was  the  motive  that  led  to  this  fairy 
creation  on  the  banks  of  the  Jumna.  Can  it  be 
that  this  exquisite  memorial  was  the  work  of  the 
human  hand:  that  the  breathless  marble  was  ever 
imbedded  under  mold  and  dirt;  that  the  jewels 
and  precious  stones  that  are  inlaid  on  the  mau- 
soleums of  the  emperor  and  empress  and  on  walls 
and  floors  must  have  been  mined  and  worked  into 
flowing  shapes  by  the  human  hand?  The 
stranger,  gazing  on  this  faultless  dream  of 
beauty,  wonders  if  the  whole  is  not  a  mirage,  an 
exhalation  of  light,  crystallized  from  sunbeam  and 
cloud-land,  rather  than  something  of  the  earth, 
earthy.  Not  only  the  Taj  itself,  but  also  its 
scenic  setting,  are  gloriously  harmonious.  It  is 
on  a  raised  platform  of  marble ;  guarded  by  four 
graceful  minarets ;  flanked  on  the  rear  by  the 
whispering  Jumna;  on  the  sides  by  tessellated 
parks,  on  which  semi-tropical  trees  flutter  in  the 
wind  and  furnish  homes  for  singing  birds.  En- 


172     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

tering  the  park  through  a  massive  lodge,  the  path 
to  the  Taj  is  over  a  plane  of  glittering  marble, 
divided  into  sections  by  artificial  streams,  whose 
jettying  fountains  cool  the  air  with  their  spray, 
and  in  whose  bosom  the  dome  and  fa9ade  of  the 
Taj  are  reflected.  Thus  almost  every  element  of 
beauty  seems  to  contribute  its  gift. 

The  Taj  is  always  beautiful ;  whether,  when  the 
soft  moonlight  melts  it  into  silvery  filaments  or 
when  the  rising  sun  strikes  it  with  shafts  of  light, 
or  when  the  garish  day  flushes  its  tower  and 
minarets  with  exultant  color.  It  stands  every 
test  of  view,  every  angle  of  vision;  every  vista 
mirrors  itself  in  a  wealth  of  charm.  The  panels 
are  inlaid  with  precious  stones  made  into  the 
form  of  flowers  and  leaves.  The  ornamentation 
is  delicate.  The  tombs  of  Shahjahan  and  Mum- 
taz  are  under  the  dome,  in  the  crypt,  enclosed  by 
a  trellis-work  screen  of  grilled  white  marble. 
On  the  upper  floor,  also  under  the  dome,  there 
are  replicas  of  the  tombs.  The  dim  light,  the 
hush,  the  sense  of  mystery,  the  compelling  soft- 
ness of  every  effect,  throw  around  this  noblest 
of  tombs  a  delicacy  of  appeal  which  no  other 
structure  possesses.  Gateways  of  red  sandstone 
are  worthy  pendants  to  the  noble  building.  It 
should  be  said  that  the  tomb  measures  186  feet 
on  each  side;  the  central  dome  has  a  height  of 
187  feet;  the  finial  pinnacles  are  the  only  metal 
products  used  in  the  Taj.  All  else  is  of  pure 
marble.  No  machinery  was  used  in  its  con- 


INDIA  173 

struction.  All  was  done  by  the  human  hand. 
Alas  for  mortal  inconsistencies.  The  glorious 
Taj  was  built  by  cruelly  enforced  labor.  Thou- 
sands of  coolies  toiled  unrequited  for  more  than 
twenty  years.  It  was  cemented  by  tears,  blood, 
agony  and  death.  Moreover,  the  fair  Mumtaz 
was  only  "the  favorite  wife,"  for,  like  all  the 
Moghul  Emperors,  Shahjahan  had  his  harem 
of  polygamous  wives.  In  his  old  age  he  was 
dethroned  by  his  son,  Aurungzebe,  and  confined 
as  a  prisoner  in  the  fort.  In  his  dying  hours  he 
asked  to  be  taken  to  a  room  which  commands  a 
view  of  the  Taj  ;  and  his  last,  lingering  gaze  was 
upon  his  splendid  tomb  by  which  his  memory  is 
perpetuated. 


Agra  has  other  fine  buildings  besides  the  Taj. 
The  Pearl  Mosque  in  the  fort  was  built  by  Shah- 
jahan, and  is  lined  throughout  with  marble. 
Some  of  the  courts  and  audience-halls  are  of  ele- 
gant finish.  There  are  sumptuous  apartments 
once  used  by  the  women  of  the  royal  household. 
Once  there  was  a  system  of  artificial  cascades, 
flowing  streams,  marble  bathrooms,  halls  whose 
walls  were  lined  with  mirrors ;  palaces  of  sand- 
stone ;  secret  treasure-chambers ;  vast  cisterns  for 
the  storage  of  water.  Everything  that  unbridled 
power  and  royal  whim  could  imagine,  was  found 
here.  Now  all  is  silent.  The  vast  fort,  with  all 
its  gorgeous  mosques  and  superb  apartments,  is 


174     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

maintained   by    the    government,    virtually    as    a 
museum. 

The  monumental  tomb  of  Akbar  the  Great  is 
at  Sikandarah,  about  five  miles  from  Agra.  An- 
other splendid  tomb  is  that  of  I'timad-ud-daulah, 
the  Persian  father  of  Mumtaz,  in  whose  memory 
the  Taj  was  built ;  it  is  located  beyond  the  Jumna 
river. 


Another  memorial  of  Moghul  profligacy  is  the 
once  royal  but  now  deserted  city  of  Fatehpur- 
Sikri,  a  few  miles  out  from  Agra.  Vast  ruins 
mark  the  spot  where  Akbar  ordained  that  a  new 
capital  should  be  built.  The  great  fort  and  im- 
mense buildings  must  have  cost  a  vast  outlay 
of  money.  Some  of  the  tombs  and  mosques  are 
fine  types  of  Oriental  art.  Perhaps  the  most 
sacred  memorial  is  the  tomb  of  Shaikh  Salim,  a 
saint,  to  whose  honor  the  city  was  dedicated. 
Imperial  Akbar  built  the  gorgeous  array  of 
buildings  and  constructed  a  fiat  city.  All  was 
vain;  the  expenditure  was  waste.  The  site  was 
found  to  be  unsanitary  ;  the  water  supply  was  de- 
ficient. In  a  few  years  it  was  abandoned.  It 
stands  as  a  monument  of  misplaced  effort  and 
limitless  profligacy  of  public  revenue. 

DELHI 

Delhi,  for  many  years  the  proud  capital  of  the 
Moghul  Empire,  soon  to  be  the  capital  of  Brit- 


V 


INDIA  175 

ish  India,  a  few  weeks  ago  the  scene  of  the  mag- 
nificent Durbar,  and  all  the  royal  pageant  attend- 
ing the  coronation  of  King  George  as  Emperor 
of  India,  is  rich  in  august  history  and  emblems 
of  Oriental  art.  Here  some  of  the  most  artistic 
products  of  India  are  made;  here  the  patient  In- 
dian creates  beautiful  forms  of  handiwork: — 
jewelry,  silverware,  embroidery,  lace  work,  ivory 
and  wood-carvings,  gold  traceries  and  metal 
products. 

The  history  of  Delhi  is  tragic,  indeed.  Its  lo- 
cation exposed  it  to  the  wild  fury  of  Tartar  and 
Persian  invaders.  It  has  been  captured,  looted 
and  destroyed  over  and  over  again.  Seven  suc- 
cessive Delhis  have  been  built,  most  of  them  only 
to  be  blotted  out.  Now  a  new  Delhi  is  to  arise, 
embellished  by  modern  art,  protected  by  scientific 
sanitation.  Millions  of  money  are  to  be  ex- 
pended on  the  fields  which  have  again  and  again 
been  soaked  with  human  gore. 

Probably  the  world  has  known  no  pageant 
equal  to  that  of  the  recent  Durbar.  No  Moghul 
conqueror,  no  voluptuous  rajah,  ever  was  the  cen- 
ter of  such  a  magnificent  demonstration  as  that 
which  welcomed  modest  King  George  and  Queen 
Mary.  Few  of  the  temporary  memorials  were 
standing  when  we  visited  the  city. 

The  city  now  has  about  233,000  inhabitants. 
It  abounds  in  relics  of  the  past  grandeur  of  the 
Moghul  power,  and  many  others  connected  with 
the  tumultuous  horrors  of  the  Mutiny  in  1857. 


176     GOLDEN  WINDOW: OF  THE  EAST 

Extensive  ruins  surround  the  modern  city ;  among 
them  75  unknown  tombs  of  men  whose  memory 
has  faded  into  oblivion.  The  circumvallating 
forts  are  immense.  The  wealth  of  Delhi  excited 
the  cupidity,  not  only  of  Moghuls  and  Persians. 
but  that  of  native  tribes.  Incredible  plunder 
was  gathered  by  the  invaders.  The  wonderful 
Peacock  Throne,  one  of  the  costliest  emblems  of 
royalty  ever  known,  was  carried  into  Persia  after 
the  capture  of  the  city  by  Nadir.  Some  of  the 
halls  in  the  court,  magnificent  in  architectural 
adornment,  have  been  the  scene  of  terrible  trage- 
dies. The  graceful  designs,  exquisite  marbles, 
rich  jewels,  scented  bath-rooms,  purling  foun- 
tains, all  the  accessories  of  Oriental  magnificence 
and  unlimited  pomp,  have  not  extruded  the  eter- 
nal note  of  sadness.  As  the  stranger  wanders 
through  the  silent  halls  and  echoing  corridors, 
and  gazes  upon  the  monuments  built  by  arrogant 
despots,  and  hears  the  tales  of  romance  and 
tragedy  which  haunt  the  royal  apartments,  he 
feels  that  a  vast,  unwritten  history  is  unrolled 
before  his  eyes,  upon  which  are  engraved  a  men- 
tal picture  of  much  that  is  glorious  and  ignoble 
in  past  Indian  life. 

No  description  will  be  attempted  by  the  writer, 
no  list  catalogued  of  the  historical  monuments 
in  Delhi.  Walls,  bastions,  moats,  forts,  domes, 
gateways,  arches,  columns,  audience  halls,  foun- 
tains, tombs,  palaces,  statues,  embankments,  grot- 
toes, enclosures,  towers,  minarets,  all  these  and 


INDIA  177 

many  more  memorials  of  the  ancient  grandeur  of 
Delhi  and  the  Moghul  dynasty,  reel  before  the 
stranger's  eyes.  He  hears  the  tales  of  the 
guides,  he  admires,  wonders ;  he  is  fascinated  and 
spell-bound;  then  the  memory  is  surcharged;  all 
is  confusion.  Scene  repeats  scene ;  history  treads 
on  the  heel  of  history.  The  works  of  Akbar, 
Jahinger  and  Shahjahan,  with  all  their  riot  of 
splendor  and  garniture,  reveal  the  same  design; 
the  Oriental  sublimity  of  art,  mingled  with  traces 
of  Greek  and  Latin  influence.  Names  unknown 
to  the  Western  races  rise  from  the  mists  of  the 
past;  stately  warriors  and  fair  dames  seem  to 
leap  from  their  graves.  A  ghostly  procession 
of  conquerors  and  victims  passes  before  the  mind's 
eye.  The  stranger  finds  himself  in  a  world,  old 
indeed,  but  new  to  him ;  a  world  of  dreams  and  un- 
realities ;  a  wonderland  of  mystery.  Then  he 
thinks  that  most  of  those  actors  have  lived,  and 
almost  all  these  memorials  were  constructed  since 
the  discovery  of  America. 

One  of  the  most  notable  monuments  is  the  Kutab 
Minar,  a  tower  of  victory,  a  few  miles  out  from 
Delhi ;  a  stone  shaft  238  feet  high ;  a  remarkable 
work  of  art.  Near  this  tower  are  tombs  and 
mosques  and  temples;  some  of  them  graced  with 
stone  carvings  of  exceeding  beauty.  The  mau- 
soleum of  the  Emperor  Humayun,  near  Delhi,  is 
upon  the  plan  afterwards  adopted  in  the  building 
of  the  Taj  Mahal  at  Agra. 


178     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

THE    SOCIAL    LIFE 

Nothing,  however,  is  more  interesting  in  an 
Indian  city  than  its  social  life.  All  works  of  art 
have  their  educative  value;  they  show  what  the 
brain  and  hand  of  man  can  do,  in  visualizing  the 
sense  of  beauty,  in  religious  aspirations  and  in 
public  works.  But  the  life  of  the  people  is  the 
human  document  which  the  stranger  must  read 
if  he  wishes  to  carry  away  abiding  impressions. 
The  very  heart  of  the  Orient  is  unveiled  in  the 
native  quarters  of  a  great  city.  Here  is  the 
panorama  of  real  life. 

Delhi  is  mostly  Mohammedan ;  yet  there  is  a 
large  Hindu  contingent.  The  religions  are 
sharply  antagonistic.  Except  in  business  con- 
cerns, there  is  little  fraternizing  of  the  native 
Hindus  with  the  descendants  of  the  Mohammedan 
conquerors.  An  educated  Christian  Hindu  told 
me  that  in  five  minutes  a  riot  could  be  excited  in 
Delhi,  by  the  Mohammedans  killing  a  cow,  or  by 
the  Hindus  admitting  a  hog  into  a  mosque.  The 
Hindu  regards  the  cow  as  the  image  of  divine 
maternity:  to  kill  one  is  sacrilege.  The  Moham- 
medan regards  a  hog  as  detestable:  to  eat  pork 
is  an  offense  to  his  religion. 

The  great  mosque,  Jumma  Mas j  id,  in  Delhi  is 
one  of  the  largest  in  India.  Friday  is  the  holy 
day  for  Mohammedans.  As  we  were  in  Delhi  on 
that  day,  we  went  to  the  mosque  at  noon,  when 
the  muezzin  calls  the  faithful  to  prayer.  Throngs 


INDIA  179 

of  men  poured  into  the  vast  court  of  the  mosque, 
undoubtedly  from  five  to  six  thousand.  A  few 
veiled  women  knelt  at  a  distance.  With  tur- 
baned  heads  and  many-colored  tunics,  the  wor- 
shipers advanced  to  the  pool  of  sacred  water, 
laved  their  hands  and  feet ;  then  knelt  upon  the 
stone  pavement,  and,  as  the  priest  shrieked  out 
the  prayer,  bowed  and  bowed  to  the  floor,  in  rapt 
adoration.  When  the  women  knelt  their  forms 
were  entirely  concealed  in  their  robes,  which  they 
drew  over  them.  At  the  times  of  the  Mohamme- 
dan fasts,  their  days  of  purification,  25,000  wor- 
shipers may  be  seen  here. 

We  remained  through  the  short  service,  walked 
down  the  long  stone  steps  into  a  public  square. 
Now  came  another  kind  of  view.  Beggars  and 
outcasts  importuned  for  alms ;  itinerant  peddlers 
pestered  us  to  buy  their  trifles.  Nautch  danc- 
ing-girls, bedecked  with  tawdry  jewels,  accom- 
panied by  a  tom-tom  player,  performed  their  an- 
tics. In  a  moment,  the  hush  of  worship  was 
changed  to  the  bedlam  of  an  Oriental  street,  with 
its  squalor  and  poverty.  The  contrast  was 
startling. 

AMRITSAR    AND    LAHORE 

At  Delhi  we  left  the  beaten  track  of  tourists 
and  passed  further  north  in  the  Punjab,  325 
miles,  to  the  cities  of  Amritsar  and  Lahore.  The 
scenery  was  disappointing.  This  part  of  the 
Punjab  is  a  level  plain. 


180     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

In  the  Punjab  we  were  introduced  to  the  Sikh 
civilization;  that  hardy  race  which  furnishes  so 
many  soldiers  and  policemen  to  the  Indian  serv- 
ice. Amritsar  is  the  religious  capital  of  the 
Sikhs.  Its  staple  industry  is  the  manufacture  of 
Kashmir  shawls  from  the  wool  of  the  shaggy 
goat  of  North  India.  In  the  warm  season,  when 
the  snow  and  ice  have  melted  in  the  mountain 
passes,  caravans  of  merchants  defile  into  the  cities 
of  the  Punjab,  from  Kashmir,  Afghanistan,  Bok- 
hara, Turkestan,  Persia,  Nepaul  and  other  in- 
terior regions. 

The  architectural  attraction  in  Amritsar  jisi 
the  Darbar  of  Sahib,  or  Golden  Temple  of  the 
Sikhs.  With  slippered  feet  we  were  shown 
through  the  sacred  precincts.  The  Sikh  reli- 
gion is  new,  about  400  years  old ;  its  ritual  is 
peculiar.  The  temples  are  richly  ornamented. 
Some  of  the  chapels  no  non-Sikh  is  allowed  to 
enter.  A  priest  reads  or  chants  from  the  sa- 
cred book,  the  Granth,  while  pilgrims  march 
around  him,  throw  offerings  of  money  or  flowers ; 
then  sit  down  and  join  in  the  chant,  to  the  ac- 
companiment of  some  stringed  instruments.  Ad- 
mission to  the  faith  is  by  baptism.  In  the  lower 
court  is  a  large  tank  of  slimy  water  in  which 
worshipers  perform  their  ablutions.  It  is  difficult 
to  understand  the  Sikh  religion  or  how  far  it 
varies  from  other  Indian  faiths.  It  is  a  re- 
formed branch  of  Hinduism,  founded  by  one 
Nanak  Sahib.  It  denounces  idolatry  and  has 


INDIA  181 

no    castes.     It    has    about    2,200,000    adherents. 

Lahore  is  the  capital  of  the  Punjab;  a  military- 
station  of  much  importance  and  the  seat  of  nu- 
merous institutions  of  learning.  Its  commercial 
importance  has  declined  since  the  days  of  the 
Moghul  power.  It  has  a  very  interesting  mu- 
seum of  native  arts  and  historic  curios.  We 
made  the  usual  round  of  mosques  and  tombs  and 
visited  Forman  College. 

Lahore  is  associated  with  the  youthful  days 
of  Rudyard  Kipling;  he  was  educated  at  the  gov- 
ernment college.  We  saw  the  big  cannon  in  front 
of  the  museum  which  figures  in  the  opening  chap- 
ter of  his  story  "Kim." 

Nowhere  in  India  have  we  seen  native  quarters 
more  characteristic  of  the  Orient  than  in  Amrit- 
sar  and  Lahore.  The  houses  are  somewhat  more 
substantial  than  in  the  Ganges  Valley,  by  reason 
of  the  cold  winters ;  but  the  streets  are  just  as 
narrow  and  squalid.  Human  life  sways  through 
them.  The  little  booths  present  all  kinds  of  Ori- 
ental wares.  Fountains  of  water  are  the  public 
bathing  places.  Dingy  temples  with  hideous 
idols  open  from  the  streets  at  frequent  intervals. 
Asses,  loaded  with  panniers,  snarling  camels, 
coolies  bearing  every  kind  of  burden,  muffled 
women,  naked  children,  shouting  peddlers,  jostle 
each  other  in  moving  masses.  Bridal  parties, 
tricked  in  the  smartest  colors,  march,  sometimes 
with  bands  of  musicians,  sometimes  with  a  chorus 
of  singing  girls.  Funeral  processions  appear 


182     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

frequently,  the  body  of  the  dead  one  carried  on 
men's  shoulders,  on  the  way  to  the  burning  ghat. 
Often  the  corpse  is  covered  with  pink  muslin  or 
silk.  No  outward  manifestation  of  grief  seems 
to  move  the  conclave.  It  is  sometimes  difficult  to 
distinguish  between  a  wedding  and  funeral  pro- 
cession. Above  all,  are  the  street-cries,  the 
hurly-burly.  Women  are  cooking  on  the  side- 
walks ;  men  smoking  and  trading ;  children  play- 
ing; all  is  a  cloud  of  shifting  humanity,  restless 
as  the  sea,  light  as  the  air.  Surely,  India  is  the 
land  of  the  open.  Secretive  by  nature,  sly  and 
uncommunicative,  the  Indian  seems  to  know  no  so- 
cial privacies. 


XVI 

INDIA 

(Continued) 

Wandering  between  two  worlds, — one  dead, — 
The  other  powerless  to  be  born. 

Matthew  Arnold. 

CENTRAL    PROVINCES 

The  most  northerly  point  of  our  Indian  wan- 
derings was  reached  in  the  Punjab.  Lahore,  the 
capital,  situated  in  an  arid  plain,  is  one  of  the 
hottest  places  in  India  in  the  summer.  The  heat 
is  said  to  be  less  endurable  than  in  the  lowland 
provinces.  The  English  officials  are  developing 
immense  irrigation  projects  in  the  Punjab  and 
Sinde.  By  this  method  large  tracts  of  land  are 
reclaimed  for  cultivation.  As  we  have  traveled 
over  India,  we  have  observed  how  imperative  is 
the  need  of  irrigation  on  a  vast  scale.  India  is 
essentially  an  agricultural  country.  Three- 
fourths  of  the  inhabitants  live  in  villages  and  de- 
pend upon  the  produce  of  the  land  for  a  liveli- 
hood. There  is  not  enough  food  raised.  Peri- 
odical famines  have  wasted  the  lives  of  millions 
of  people.  There  is  no  way  in  which  these  can 
be  avoided  except  through  irrigation.  Wages 

are  so  low  that  most  of  the  peasants  lead  a  hand- 
183 


184     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

to-mouth  existence.  The  failure  of  one  harvest 
means  death  to  many  thousands.  The  Punjab 
and  Sinde  have  been  the  scenes  of  terrible  fam- 
ines. Irrigation  has  greatly  aided  these  prov- 
inces. 

After  our  second  visit  in  Delhi  we  turned  to 
the  southward  and  entered  the  native  province  of 
Raj  put  ana;  one  of  the  most  famous  in  Indian 
history.  It  is  still  governed  by  native  rajahs; 
it  is  not  organically  incorporated  into  British 
India.  Externally  the  contour  of  Raj  put  ana  is 
not  attractive.  Dry  plains  alternate  with  lime- 
stone hills ;  large  tracts  of  land  are  incapable  of 
cultivation.  The  Rajput  villages  are  collections 
of  mud  hovels.  All  the  land  of  the  province  is 
owned  by  the  rajahs.  The  people  in  the  outly- 
ing communities  are  miserably  poor.  Yet,  the 
Rajputs  are  among  the  proudest,  fiercest,  most 
warlike  and  tenacious  of  all  the  Indians.  Their 
native  costumes  are  brilliant.  The  Rajput 
women  are  loaded  with  jewelry.  They  can  be 
distinguished  from  other  natives,  when  seen  in 
the  large  cities  outside  of  their  province,  by  their 
smart  colors  and  excessive  ornamentation.  As 
the  train  runs  through  the  wild  jungle — bare  ex- 
cept for  trees  and  scrubby  brush — an  occasional 
stone  is  seen  under  the  pipal,  a  sacred  tree  in 
Hinduism.  As  this  tree  is  of  soft  pith,  it  is 
useless  economically,  and  has  been  devoted  to  the 
gods.  Tree  and  river  worship,  as  well  as  animal 


INDIA  185 

worship,  is  a  part  of  the  ancient  faith  of  the  peo- 
ple. 

Jaipur,  or  Jeypore,  is  the  capital  of  the  prov- 
ince of  Rajputana.  It  is  a  city  quite  after  the 
modern  type,  being  only  about  £00  years  old. 
It  is  laid  out  with  wide  streets,  has  a  system  of 
parks  and  also  one  of  the  finest  museums  in  In- 
dia. An  Italian  architect  assisted  in  developing 
the  city ;  so  there  is  a  good  deal  of  that  uniform- 
ity in  architecture  which  is  observable  in  the  large 
cities  of  continental  Europe.  Almost  all  the 
buildings  are  covered  with  stucco,  painted  pink. 
The  effect  is  quite  pleasing  to  the  eye. 

The  street  life  of  Jaipur  is  very  brilliant. 
Nothing  that  we  have  seen  in  India  equals  it. 
Pompous  elephants,  gaily  caparisoned,  parade 
through  the  streets.  It  is  a  part  of  the  court 
etiquette  that  every  rajah  shall  keep  at  least 
one  elephant.  The  animal,  fat  and  bedizened, 
fares  beter  than  the  half-starved  natives. 

One-seventh  of  the  territory  in  Jaipur  is  used 
for  the  Maharajah's  palace  and  grounds.  Here 
is  true  Oriental  grandeur,  in  startling  contrast 
with  the  poverty  of  his  subjects.  The  sweating 
ryot  (farm  laborer)  toils  under  the  blistering  sun 
from  daylight  until  darkness  and  receives  for  his 
exhausting  labor  perhaps  four  or  five  cents  a  day 
— no  more.  Even  a  part  of  this  beggarly  pit- 
tance goes  for  taxes  to  maintain  the  vulgar  os- 
tentation of  the  rajahs.  The  palace  at  Jaipur 
is  a  type  of  hundreds  that  may  be  found  in  the 


186     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

East  —  a  circle  of  gaudy  houses,  often  adorned 
with  doors  of  bronze  or  silver;  private  and  pub- 
lic audience  halls;  a  dancing  room;  a  crowd  of 
slatternly  retainers;  a  temple  where  his  highness 
may  worship  ;  a  banquet  hall  ;  a  zenana,  or  harem, 
for  his  fifty  or  more  concubines  ;  a  menagerie  of 
animals.  The  peacock  strutted  over  the  lawns; 
the  agile  mongoose  (weasel)  shied  at  our  ap- 
proach into  the  coverts.  The  frisky  monkey  was 
everywhere.  There  was  a  large  stud  of  horses. 
One  pond  was  devoted  to  alligators.  Pheasants 
decorated  the  woods.  All  was  a  mass  of  tawdry 
profusion.  Yet,  the  Maharajah  has  good  points. 
He  has  endowed  the  noble  museum  and  has  done 
something  for  popular  education. 


HINDU  WEDDINGS  AND   FUNERALS 

His  ca 


His  caste  imposes  upon  him  certain  obligations 
which  are  expensive.  Recently  his  mother  died  ; 
a  gorgeous  funeral  followed.  It  was  the  privi- 
lege of  any  Brahman  of  the  Maharajah's  caste  to 
eat  a  meal  at  his  expense.  We  were  told  that  he 
fed  at  least  1,000,000  guests.  Some  honors  come 
high. 

Weddings  and  funerals  in  India  exhaust  large 
sums  of  money.  The  late  winter  is  the  season  of 
weddings.  At  the  railroad  stations  and  on  the 
streets,  we  have  seen  many  nuptial  parties. 
Some  of  the  brides  were  mere  girls  ;  all  decked 
in  tinsel  of  the  gaudiest  colors,  generally  with 
their  faces  veiled.  None  of  them  looked  to  be 


INDIA  187 

happy.  Marriages  are  always  arranged  by  the 
parents.  A  daughter  must  accept  the  husband 
whom  her  father  selects.  There  is  no  courtship. 
An  English  resident  told  of  attending  the  wed- 
ding of  a  girl-child  of  five  to  a  polygamous  Brah- 
man priest  of  seventy  years.  If  the  husband  dies 
before  co-habitation,  the  girl  is  considered  dis- 
graced; her  hair  is  cut;  she  is  allowed  but  one  or 
two  slender  meals  a  day;  cannot  re-marry;  be- 
comes virtually  the  slave  of  the  mother-in-law. 
Moreover,  marriage  generally  does  not  mean  a 
separate  domicile  for  the  couple.  The  bride  goes 
to  her  husband's  home,  is  incorporated  into  the 
family  group,  which  consists  often  of  a  consider- 
able number  of  families ;  the  household  is  ruled 
by  the  husband's  mother. 

A  strong  protest  is  rising  against  these  abuses, 
especially  that  of  girl-widowhood.  In  the  Brit- 
ish Indian  provinces  legislation  has  been  enacted 
which  releases  the  child-widow  from  the  cruel  in- 
justice to  which  the  ancient  customs  of  the  land 
subject  her. 

One  day  we  happened  to  see  a  strange  affair 
in  the  streets  of  Jaipur.  The  street  was  wide. 
We  observed  that,  for  a  considerable  space,  half 
of  it  had  been  fenced  in.  Banners  were  flying 
and  music  sounding.  Later,  we  passed  the  place 
again,  looked  into  the  enclosure,  and  saw  a  Hindu 
wedding  feast.  There  were  no  seats.  A  great 
crowd  of  guests  squatted  upon  the  ground. 


188     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

There  was  a  flash  of  iridescent  colors.  Many  of 
the  women  were  sumptuously  attired.  Serv- 
ants were  passing  around  food  and  drinks. 
It  is  to  be  presumed  that  all  were  of  one  caste. 
The  guests,  who  kept  coming  and  going,  must 
have  numbered  thousands.  The  festivities  were 
prolonged  for  hours.  All  was  in  the  open  air. 
The  burning  sun  was  beating  upon  the  heads  of 
the  great  crowd.  We  were  told  that  such  enter- 
tainments are  very  common  in  India.  The  hosts 
often  incur  ruinous  debts  thereby,  which  are 
sometimes  left  as  an  uncomfortable  burden  to 
their  descendants. 


Our  landlord  at  Jaipur  was  an  intelligent 
Hindu  of  the  reforming  class.  Few  Hindus  are 
hotel-keepers  or  even  waiters.  This  is  owing  to 
their  aversion  to  eating  or  handling  flesh  food. 
No  true  Hindu  ever  eats  meat ;  to  do  so  is  against 
the  cardinal  precepts  of  his  religion.  Most  of 
the  table  waiters  are  Christians  or  Mohamme- 
dans. The  landlord  talked  freely  of  the  abuses 
which  have  crept  into  the  Hindu  faith.  He  said 
he  saw  signs  of  great  changes  in  the  near  future. 
He  favors  radical  reforms,  yet  still  remains  in 
his  ancestral  religion;  wears  the  turban  and 
garb.  He  believes  the  reform  can  come  from 
within.  He  claims  that  Hinduism  is,  in  its  es- 
sence, as  pure  as  Christianity;  that  its  perver- 
sions are  social  and  political.  His  conversation 


INDIA  189 

was  entertaining.     He  has  a  keen  mind,  like  many 
of  the  Brahmans. 

AJMIR  AND   ABU-ROAD 

From  Jaipur  we  moved  on  to  Ajmir,  also  in 
Rajputana.  Some  notion  of  the  slowness  of  rail- 
way day-service  in  India  may  be  inferred  from  the 
fact  that  we  were  more  than  five  hours  in  cov- 
ering a  distance  of  about  forty  miles.  The  in- 
tervening country  is  ashy,  poor,  dry,  and  thinly 
inhabited.  Ajmir  is  hilly  and  is  garrisoned  by 
English  troops.  It  has  an  ancient  and  sharply 
defined  Orientalism.  The  Mohammedan  mosque 
is  one  of  the  finest  which  we  have  seen  in  India. 
In  the  yard  was  a  huge  iron  vat,  set  upon  a  fur- 
nace, in  which  rice  is  boiled  every  day  and  dis- 
tributed to  the  poor.  The  mosque  has  some 
elaborate  tombs  in  which  members  of  the  Moghul 
dynasty  are  buried.  At  sunset  hour,  the  mosque 
was  filled  with  devout  Moslems,  saying  their 
prayers  and  bowing  towards  Mecca. 

Next  came  a  delightful  rest  of  four  days,  as 
the  guests  of  Rev.  and  Mrs.  Arnold  Thomas,  at 
Abu-Road.  We  had  had  as  fellow-travelers  for 
several  weeks  our  good  English  friends,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Samuel  Dugdale,  of  Luddenden,  Yorkshire, 
the  latter  of  whom  is  aunt  of  Mr.  Thomas.  We 
were  graciously  admitted  to  the  family  circle  as 
guests,  and  thus  had  our  first  glimpse  of  English 
home-life  in  India. 

Abu-Road   is    a   residential   town   for  railroad 


190     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

officials     and     employes.     The    houses     are    con- 
structed after  the  bungalow  fashion. 

HINDU    SERVANTS 

In  India,  all  domestic  service,  is  done  by  men. 
No  native  Hindu  woman  is  employed.  The  work 
is  highly  specialized.  Generally,  in  the  simplest 
establishments  four  servants  are  required:  a  cook, 
a  water-boy,  a  sweeper,  a  waiter;  generally  also 
a  dhobie,  or  laundry-boy.  No  Western  trades- 
unionism  is  more  rigorous  than  the  castes  to  which 
the  servants  belong.  To  break  one's  caste  is  in- 
famous. If  the  water-boy,  who  brings  water 
from  a  common  fountain  for  several  families, 
should  act  as  waiter,  he  loses  his  caste.  The  dis- 
charging of  a  servant  is  sometimes  attended  with 
difficulty ;  members  of  his  caste  do  not  dare  to  as- 
sume his  place.  Wages  are  very  low,  hardly 
amounting  to  $3  a  month;  and  the  servants  find 
themselves  with  food. 

THE    JAIX    TEMPLE  AT   MOUNT  ABU 

Mount  Abu, — one  of  the  hill-resorts  of  Central 
India, — is  distant  about  seventeen  miles  from 
Abu-Road.  It  is  reached  over  a  climbing  high- 
way. We  took  the  journey  in  tongas,  native 
two-horse  vehicles ;  changing  horses  four  times  en 
route.  Mount  Abu  is  a  summer  resort  and  play- 
ground; but  its  chief  fame  comes  from  the  Jain 
temple,  or  temples,  called  the  Dilwara.  They 
are  considered  among  the  best  in  India,  especially 


INDIA  191 

in  stone-carvings.  Young  priests  acted  as  our 
guides.  There  was  a  multiplicity  of  statues  of 
the  Saint  Parswanatha,  to  whom  the  sacred  edi- 
fice is  dedicated.  Each  statue  is  in  a  niche  by 
itself;  all  have  glass  eyes.  The  myth  runs  that 
the  one  most  sacred  of  all  the  statues  arose  out 
of  the  ground  into  the  position  where  it  now  is. 
A  guide  solemnly  assured  us  that  this  statue  had 
eyesight;  he  seemed  to  be  disturbed  when  we  ex- 
pressed our  doubt  of  this  amazing  statement. 

Temples  and  mosques  are  to  India  what  cathe- 
drals, picture-galleries  and  museums  are  to  Eu- 
ropean cities.  Their  monotonous  character, 
after  a  time,  wearies  the  tourist. 

AHMADABAD 

Our  next  stay  was  at  the  large  city  of  Ahmada- 
bad,  a  center  of  cotton  manufacturing.  It 
proved  to  be  the  dustiest,  dirtiest,  most  uncom- 
fortable and  hottest  city  that  we  had  seen  in 
India.  It  is  intensely  Oriental.  The  architec- 
tural attractions  are  several  mosques,  some  of 
which  have  great  renown.  One  has  some  richly 
carved  stone  windows.  In  another,  we  saw  three 
slabs,  sacred  to  Mahomet,  Jesus  and  Mary,  each. 
That  anyone  can  survive  the  dirt  of  Ahmadabad 
is  almost  a  wonder.  In  summer  the  heat  must 
be  intolerable.  All  the  usual  scenes  of  primitive 
Oriental  life  are  repeated  in  its  streets. 


192     GOLDEN  WINDOW  <  OF  THE  EAST 

BOMBAY 

A  night's  ride  and  we  reached  Bombay,  which 
is  on  the  western  coast  of  India,  by  far  the  finest 
city  in  the  entire  peninsula.  Although  hot  and 
malarious,  its  climate  is  tempered  by  the  sea- 
winds.  Next  to  Calcutta,  it  is  the  largest  city  in 
India,  and  has  immense  business  interests  in  com- 
merce and  manufacturing.  Its  population  is 
about  800,000.  In  the  number  of  chimneys  of 
cotton  mills  it  resembles  one  of  the  manufactur- 
ing centers  of  Lancashire  or  New  England.  We 
were  told  that  only  two  of  the  mills  are  owned 
by  Englishmen.  Jains,  Hindus  or  Parsees,  and 
the  wealthy  Hebrew  family,  the  Sassoons,  own 
the  rest.  Bombay  has  all  the  indicia  of  a 
wealthy  city,  and  is  the  home  of  many  million- 
aires. Elegant  homes  adorn  the  esplanade  and 
Malabar  Hill.  The  Victoria  railroad  station  is 
one  of  which  any  city  might  be  proud.  There 
are  universities,  hospitals,  institutions  for  the 
blind,  orphanages,  and  a  long  list  of  public  build- 
ings, and  a  large  zoological  collection  at  Victoria 
Gardens. 


THE    PARSEES 

Prominent  in  the  civic  and  commercial  life  of 
Bombay  are  the  Parsees,  the  last  remnant  of  the 
Zoroastrians  or  Persian  fire-worshipers.  When 
Persia  was  converted  to  the  Mohammedan  faith 
and  fire-worship  was  forbidden,  an  immigration 


INDIA  193 

of  Persians  (Parsees)  to  India  followed.  They 
were  tolerated  in  Bombay,  and  the  present  Par- 
sees  are  their  descendants.  The  sacred  fire 
brought  from  the  temples  of  the  sun-god  in  Per- 
sia has  never  been  allowed  to  be  extinguished.  It 
has  been  carried  from  temple  to  temple.  No  one 
but  a  Parsee  is  allowed  to  see  it. 

There  are  only  about  100,000  Parsees  in  In- 
dia, but  their  wealth,  ability,  business  keenness 
and  public  spirit  have  given  them  great  influence. 
They  are  a  handsome  race ;  monogamous ;  their 
women  are  unveiled;  they  are  enthusiasts  in  edu- 
cation. They  assimilate  better  with  the  Euro- 
peans than  any  other  Indian  race.  They  are 
manufacturers,  traders,  bankers,  shippers;  ap- 
parently few  of  them  are  farmers  or  mechanics. 

The  Parsee  women  have  a  peculiarly  engag- 
ing manner  of  dress;  a  silken  shawl,  called  a 
sarei,  is  drawn  over  the  back  of  the  head,  and  ar- 
ranged into  an  outer  flowing  robe. 

The  Parsees  are  proud  of  the  charitableness 
of  their  wealthy  men.  Many  splendid  institu- 
tions in  Bombay  are  their  gift.  Their  million- 
aires live  in  sumptuous  homes.  As  they  inter- 
marry and  allow  no  conversions  into  their  sect, 
their  numbers  hardly  hold  their  own.  Withal, 
they  are  a  very  interesting  race :  a  branch  of  the 
West  Asian  Aryan  stock  transplanted  to  India. 

One  of  the  places  which  every  tourist  in  Bom- 
bay visits  is  the  Parsee  Cemetery  and  Towers  of 


194     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

Silence.  The  sect  has  never  abandoned  its  an- 
cestral method  of  disposing  of  the  dead.  There 
are  five  Towers  of  Silence  in  the  Parsee  Ceme- 
tery, surrounded  by  a  finely-kept  park.  As  it  is 
desecration  for  any  hand  but  that  of  a  Parsee 
to  touch  a  Parsee  corpse,  two  of  the  towers  are 
for  those  of  the  faith  who  die  as  suicides  or  in 
hospitals :  for  the  bodies  of  such  have  been  prob- 
ably touched  by  the  profane  hands  of  nurses  or 
officials.  The  top  of  the  towers  is  open  and  cir- 
cular, with  a  passage  in  the  center.  The  bear- 
ers bring  the  corpse  to  the  cemetery  on  their 
shoulders, — we  saw  two  so  brought:  a  registra- 
tion is  made  of  the  name  and  other  facts;  then 
the  bearers  carry  it  to  the  top  of  the  tower  and 
deposit  it,  if  of  an  adult,  on  the  upper  tier  of  the 
circular  platform.  The  intermediate  tier  is  for 
boys ;  the  lower  for  girls.  Then  the  vultures, 
scenting  the  carrion,  begin  to  hover.  We  saw 
swarms  of  the  ugly  birds  perching  on  the  towers 
and  trees.  The  bearers  withdraw ;  the  vultures 
feast  upon  the  flesh ;  in  about  two  hours  the  body 
is  picked  clean ;  only  the  osseous  skeleton  is  left. 
This  remains  for  a  few  days  in  the  tower;  then 
is  dropped  through  the  opening  to  a  channel  of 
water  and  is  disintegrated.  So  strict  are  the 
Parsees  of  their  birthright  that  an  English  wife 
of  a  Parsee,  who  desired  to  have  her  body  thus 
disposed  of,  was  refused.  If  a  Parsee  dies  in  a 
foreign  land,  where  there  is  no  Tower  of  Silence, 
the  rule  is  relaxed  and  burial  is  permitted. 


INDIA  195 

This  ancient  custom  is  based  upon  the  worship 
of  the  elements.  The  Par  see  worships  fire,  water 
and  the  earth.  He  believes  that  burial  or  cre- 
mation of  a  corpse  defiles  one  of  those  elements. 

THE    CAVES   OF   ELEPHANTA 

The  Island  of  Elephant  a,  sacred  in  Hindu 
mythology,  lies  in  the  harbor  of  Bombay,  about 
seven  and  one-half  miles  distant.  A  scrawny 
island,  with  only  300  inhabitants,  it  is  famous  for 
its  caves,  which  nearly  a  thousand  years  ago  were 
converted  into  temples.  There  are  four  of  them, 
but  only  one  of  considerable  size.  These  cave- 
temples  exhibit  the  primitive  idolatry  of  the  Hin- 
dus;  dedicated  to  Siva,  the  god  of  destruction 
and  reproduction.  Many  of  the  figures  have 
been  mutilated,  either  by  the  Portuguese  or  Mo- 
hammedans, in  days  of  religious  turbulency. 
Enough  remains,  however,  to  enable  one  to  see 
how  riotous  the  Hindu  imagination  is ;  and  how 
similar  many  of  the  concepts  are  to  Greek,  Egyp- 
tian, Assyrian  and  Roman  mythology.  Here  we 
have  the  three-headed  Brahma,  the  creator;  the 
marriage  of  Siva;  another  statue  of  Siva  danc- 
ing ;  the  monkey,  eagle,  snake  and  elephant  gods ; 
all  manifestations  of  Hindu  divinities.  Much  of 
the  work  has  considerable  artistic  merit.  Angels 
and  creatures,  half  human,  half  animal,  are 
crowded  around  the  colossal  statues  of  the  gods. 
In  each  cave,  as  in  all  temples  to  Siva,  the  holy 
of  holies  is  the  room  of  the  lingam,  a  low,  oval 


196     GOLDEN  WINDOW:  OF  THE  EAST 

stone  column.  Here  sterile  women  come  and  pray 
for  offspring:  and  if  their  prayers  are  granted, 
crown  the  figure  with  wreaths  of  flowers.  As  the 
English  government  now  has  control  of  the  cave- 
temples,  which  they  have  restored  at  considerable 
expense,  high-caste  Brahmans  regard  them  as 
desecrated.  The  worshipers  are  now  of  the  lower 
castes. 


XVII 

INDIA 

(Continued) 

Everything  is  in  a  state  of  metamorphosis.  Thou 
thyself  art  in  everlasting  change  and  in  corruption  to 
correspond:  so  is  the  whole  universe. 

Marcus  Aurelius. 

THE    DECCAN 

The  railroad  ride  from  Bombay  to  Madras  was 
a  trying  experience.  We  were  two  nights  and 
one  day  on  the  Grand  Indian  Peninsular  Railway. 
For  a  part  of  the  ride,  the  road-bed  is  poor  and 
the  cars  joggled  and  jumped  so  that  sleep  was 
well-nigh  an  impossibility.  Few  first-class  com- 
partments are  provided.  The  natives  travel  in 
immense  numbers ;  most  of  them  third  class. 
Their  dusky  faces  peer  through  the  side  openings 
from  the  interiors  of  the  carriages  into  which 
they  are  packed  like  kippered  herrings. 

Even  in  visiting  friends  in  India,  the  visitor 
takes  his  own  servant  and  bedding.  These  the 
host  is  not  supposed  to  provide.  As  domestic 
service  is  so.  minutely  specialized,  each  servant 
disdaining  to  do  anything  out  of  his  immediate 
sphere  of  work,  a  personal  servant  is  required. 

The  principal  advantage  of  a  servant  is  in  the 
197 


198     GOLDEN  WINDOW-  OF  THE  EAST 

care  of  luggage.  The  moment  in  travel  a  tour- 
ist dismounts  from  the  train,  a  swarm  of  coolies 
descends  upon  him,  eager  to  carry  his  luggage 
to  the  hotel.  As  few  of  the  coolies  can  talk  Eng- 
lish, a  servant  is  a  great  aid  in  dealing  with  them. 
Another  unusual  feature  in  Indian  travel,  espe- 
cially in  Central  and  Southern  India,  is  provision 
for  travelers  at  the  railroad  stations.  Rooms  can 
be  had  on  the  second  floor,  with  bath,  and  meals 
can  be  ordered  in  the  cafes  which  the  companies 
maintain.  Such  accommodations  are  generally 
good,  much  better  than  can  be  had  at  many  of  the 
hotels. 

A  considerable  part  of  the  ride  to  Madras  was 
through  the  large  province  of  Hyderabad.  We 
made  no  stop,  as  this  region  has  been  seriously 
affected  by  the  plague.  Hyderabad  includes  a 
large  part  of  South  Central  India.  One  of  its 
districts  is  Golconda — what  a  sweetly  sounding 
word — which  is  famous  for  its  output  of  precious 
stones,  especially  diamonds. 

I  do  not  know  how  many  diamonds  flash  in  the 
mines  of  Golconda,  but  we  saw  none  of  them. 
Rough  hills,  parched  plains,  dry  river-beds,  vil- 
lages of  mud  huts,  were  the  most  that  we  saw  of 
it  from  the  car  window.  The  hasty  glimpse 
which  we  caught  of  the  land  to  which  some  one 
gave  such  a  charming  name  rather  dimmed  my 
childish  vision  of  a  land  sparkling  with  jewels. 


INDIA  199 

MADRAS 

Madras,  the  third  city  of  India  in  population, 
extends  nine  miles  along  the  Bay  of  Bengal.  We 
had  crossed  the  peninsula  and  were  again  on  its 
eastern  rim,  called  the  Carnatic.  It  is  an  old 
city.  The  East  India  Company  made  its  first 
settlement  here.  The  province  of  Madras  is  of 
great  importance.  An  esplanade  along  the  sea- 
line  is  a  fine  speedway.  Here  is  a  long  range  of 
bathing  beaches;  the  English  residents  live  in 
bungalows  in  the  suburbs. 

Travel  in  the  East  is  peculiar.  The  impres- 
sion made  on  the  mind  of  a  tourist  by  palaces,  tem- 
ples, mosques  and  forts  is  fleeting;  but  that  made 
by  the  indescribable  outdoor  life  in  an  Oriental 
city  is  enduring.  There  is  nothing  in  the  street- 
life  of  an  American  or  European  metropolis  com- 
parable with  it.  It  needs  a  special  environment 
of  climate  and  custom,  which  the  East  furnishes. 
Secret  in  his  inner  life,  the  Oriental  does  not, 
like  lago,  "wear  his  heart  upon  his  sleeve  for 
daws  to  peck  at."  His  gregariousness,  castes, 
immobility  and  standardized  regime  of  living  open 
his  character  to  the  eyes  of  the  tourist.  The  nar- 
row, dingy  streets  are  a  kaleidoscopic  medley  of 
costumes.  Here  the  tourist  sees  the  public  bath- 
ing, the  primitive  methods  of  mechanical  work, 
the  greedy  hucksters,  the  bubble  of  chatter,  the 
clash  of  camels,  elephants,  asses  and  horses,  the 
carriers,  using  head,  hands,  feet,  and  even  the 


200     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

mouth  in  transporting  their  burdens ;  the  bullock 
carts ;  the  goods  piled  on  platforms ;  the  sweat, 
dust,  reek,  filth,  grime  and  soot ;  the  near-by  tem- 
ples and  mosques;  the  processions  with  deafening 
noise ;  bridal  and  funeral  parties ;  bevies  of 
priests;  veiled  women,  with  white  robes  encircling 
the  head  and  body,  two  perforations  before  the 
eyes  being  the  only  method  of  admitting  a  vision 
of  the  outward  world ;  naked  children ;  women 
combing  each  other's  hair;  devotees  posturing 
before  the  altars  or  decorating  idols;  the  sacred 
cow  roaming  where  she  pleases,  a  chartered  lib- 
ertine of  religion ;  greasy  "holy  men,"  with  their 
bodies  smeared  with  the  oil  of  sandal-wood ;  cow- 
dung  plastered  on  walls ;  men  and  women  cooking 
in  the  open  air;  the  foreheads  of  Hindus  dotted 
with  a  spot  of  color  or  splashed  with  a  streak,  to 
show  their  caste  or  to  denote  their  worship  of 
Vishnu  or  Siva  or  Kali ;  the  haughty  Brahman 
wearing  the  sacred  cord;  the  cowering  pariah  or 
outcast;  the  importunate  beggar  or  pestiferous 
peddler;  the  fortune-teller,  the  letter-writer,  the 
juggler,  the  snake-charmer.  All  these  and  many 
more  are  the  ingredients  of  Indian  street-life. 
Of  course,  they  do  not  concur  always  on  one 
street;  but  most  of  them  become  exceedingly  fa- 
miliar. They  are  every-day  occurrences,  in  all 
the  large  cities. 

It  is  with  much  sacrifice  that  a  Hindu  becomes 
a  Christian.     He  or  she  immediately  loses  caste. 


INDIA  SOI 

The  marriage  of  a  Christian  with  a  Hindu  is  out 
of  the  question.  Even  a  civil  marriage  is  impos- 
sible, unless  both  parties  declare  that  they  be- 
long to  neither  faith. 

The  British-Indian  government  is  pledged  not 
to  interfere  with  the  native  religions.  This  com- 
plete abstention  is  unfortunate.  Even  the  abo- 
lition of  sutteeism, — the  burning  of  a  widow  on 
her  husband's  funeral  pyre, — was  violently  op- 
posed by  Hindus,  even  by  Hindu  women.  It  is 
believed  that  if  this  humane  law  were  repealed, 
the  natives  would  swing  back  to  the  hideous  cus- 
tom at  once.  Renunciation  has  been  taught  to 
Hindu  women  for  many  generations.  Indeed,  it 
is  the  controlling  principle  of  womanhood  over 
nearly  all  Asia.  The  equality  of  the  sexes  has 
never  been  recognized. 

TRICIIINOPOLY    AND    MADURA 

These  ancient  cities  in  Southern  India  have 
great  interest.  Trichinopoly  has  a  picturesque 
location.  It  was  the  theater  of  bloody  battles 
between  the  English  and  French.  The  Fort 
Rock,  which  was  captured  by  the  English,  is  a 
natural  fortification  of  great  strength. 

The  main  interests,  however,  both  in  Trichi- 
nopoly and  Madura  are  the  vast  temples,  which 
have  a  great  place  in  Hindu  worship.  That  in 
the  former  city  is  dedicated  to  Vishnu,  the  pre- 
server. As  we  approached  it,  we  rode  through 
a  sacred  grove,  where  the  trees  were  marked  with 


202     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

V.  Crowds  of  worshipers  and  pilgrims  were  go- 
ing to  or  coming  from  the  temple  with  the  same 
letter  painted  on  their  foreheads. 

Here  we  saw,  for  the  first  time,  the  Juggernaut 
car.  It  is  drawn  through  the  streets  on  festal 
occasions,  surmounted  by  the  idols  of  Vishnu  and 
his  wife.  It  is  very  heavy.  A  thousand  men 
seize  the  cable,  made  from  cocoanut  fiber,  and 
drag  it  through  the  streets,  while  the  multitude 
prostrate  themselves  before  it.  Formerly  devo- 
tees threw  themselves  under  the  huge  wooden 
wheels,  a  willing  sacrifice  to  the  gods.  To  be 
crushed  under  the  Juggernaut  was  meritorious. 
This  barbarism  British  rule  has  stopped. 

Both  the  temples  of  Trichinopoly  and  of  Ma- 
dura are  imposing  in  their  architectural  struc- 
ture. They  are  ornamental  with  tall  towers, 
called  gopurams,  visible  from  a  great  distance. 
On  these  gopurams  there  are  thousands  of  idols ; 
at  the  Madura  temple,  6000  idols  in  all.  The 
sanctuaries  are  devoted  to  the  several  castes. 
No  low-caste  Hindu  is  allowed  to  enter  those 
where  the  higher  castes  worship;  but,  on  two 
weeks  of  the  year,  the  idols  are  removed  to  a 
large  sanctuary,  which  is  given  up  for  the  time 
being  to  the  low  castes. 

Trichinopoly  is  an  irregular  city,  made  up  of 
seventeen  villages ;  it  is  also  a  military  station. 
The  Rock  is  273  feet  high.  The  temple  of 
Vishnu  is  named  Sri  Rangam.  It  contains  a 


INDIA  203 

collection  of  diamonds  and  other  precious  stones, 
of  immense  value,  which  have  been  given  as  of- 
ferings by  votaries.  In  the  court  of  the  temple 
is  the  Hall  of  One  Thousand  Pillars ;  not  very  im- 
pressive. The  number  of  pillars  is  exaggerated. 

The  Great  Pagoda  or  Temple  of  Shiva  at  Ma- 
dura is  even  more  elaborate  than  the  Vishnu  Tem- 
ple at  Trichinopoly.  One  of  its  most  interesting 
attachments  is  a  gallery  of  frescoes,  on  which  are 
painted  the  genesis  and  development  of  the 
Hindu  myths.  Here  the  stranger  can  study  the 
symbols  and  poetic  fancies  out  of  which  the  luxu- 
riant mythology  has  been  developed.  Nothing 
is  too  improbable  or  unscientific  to  have  place 
here.  Astounding  miracles,  gross  myths,  are  pic- 
tured as  facts.  Credulity  is  at  the  base  of  much 
that  is  called  religion,  all  over  the  world,  among 
all  families  of  men ;  but  nowhere  is  it  stamped 
more  vividly  than  in  India. 

The  Hindu  worshiper  begins  by  accepting  the 
ancient  miracles  as  historic  facts.  To  doubt,  is 
sinful.  Then  he  begins  to  explain  them.  For 
instance,  a  very  intelligent  Hindu,  of  the  reform- 
ing clan,  at  Amritsar,  told  us  that  the  old 
Aryans  probably  had  the  telegraph  and  aero- 
plane, because  the  legends  recited  that  an  army 
from  the  island  of  Ceylon  came,  in  one  day,  to 
the  aid  of  their  heroes  in  North  India.  Even 
his  keen  mind  had  not  reached  that  stage  where 
he  could  dissociate  poetical  myths  from  exact 
truth.  His  position  is  an  exaggeration  of  faith 


204     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

which  leads  into  a  morass  of  superstition. 
The  temple  at  Madura  is  richly  ornamented. 
Its  carvings  are  among  the  finest  which  we  have 
seen.  Madura  was  once  the  scene  of  more  fanat- 
ical worship  than  that  of  the  present  day.  Here, 
until  stopped  by  the  British  government,  were 
held,  for  many  years,  the  "swinging  festivals," 
in  which  fanatics  were  hoisted  into  the  air  and 
swung  around  a  pole  by  iron  hooks,  forced  into 
their  backs.  It  is  said  that  generally  the  agony 
was  abated  by  some  anodyne,  which  was  injected 
into  their  bodies  before  the  prongs  were  inserted. 

At  Madura  we  had  our  first  experience  with  a 
punkah-wallah.  We  were  lodging  in  the  cham- 
bers of  the  railroad  station.  The  heat  was  al- 
most suffocating,  and  there  were  no  electric  fans. 
There  was  a  punkah  in  each  room.  The  puller, 
the  punkah-wallah,  was  not  in  sight.  Two  or 
three  times  he  fell  asleep.  At  once  we  awoke ; 
the  cessation  of  the  waves  of  air  seemed  to  cre- 
ate a  vacuum.  We  aroused  him  and  he  pulled 
and  pulled  energetically.  In  the  morning,  a  mid- 
dle-aged man  came  and  bowed  before  me.  I 
found  he  was  the  punkah-wallah.  He  pulled  all 
night  for  eight  annas,  sixteen  cents  of  our  money. 

Our  tour  in  India  was  nearing  its  end.  From 
Madura  we  took  the  train  for  Tuticorin,  whence 
we  embarked  on  a  steamer  and  arrived  at  Co- 
lombo, Ceylon,  the  following  morning. 


INDIA  205 

We  had  traveled  about  5000  miles  in  India  on 
railways,  steamers,  carriages,  tongas  and  ghar- 
ries, motor-cars  and  dandies  (sedan-chairs),  for- 
tunately without  misadventure.  Our  route  had 
ranged  from  the  hot  plains  of  Bengal  to  the 
snowy  Himalayas ;  through  the  fetid  streets  of 
Benares,  Ahmadabad  and  Allahabad  to  the  arid 
Punjab;  over  deserts  and  up  steep  hills.  We  had 
crossed  the  Peninsula  from  sea  to  sea  and  gone 
to  the  extreme  south.  We  had  slept  in  back- 
racking  sleeping  cars,  in  two  or  three  most  un- 
satisfactory hotels.  We  had  eaten  an  extraor- 
dinary melange  of  food.  We  had  inhaled  dust, 
stench,  smoke  and  mephitic  air.  We  had  entered 
temples,  mosques,  ruins,  forts,  shrines,  markets, 
bazaars,  almost  innumerable.  It  is  safe  to  say 
that  we  had  mingled  with  millions  of  Hindus,  pil- 
grims, Brahmans  and  outcasts.  Wisely  we  had 
avoided  drinking  the  native  water,  even  in  the 
best  hotels.  We  penalized  ourselves  with  insipid 
mineral  waters.  Generally  ice  was  not  procur- 
able. We  also  avoided  uncooked  native  vegeta- 
bles. Our  party  of  four  escaped  serious  illness. 
We  had  heard  of  several  unfortunate  tourists, 
whom  we  had  met,  succumbing  to  typhoid  or 
malaria  and  who  were  taken  to  hospitals ;  prob- 
ably through  imprudence  in  diet.  Under  our 
helmet  hats  we  withstood  the  burning  heat  of 
mid-day.  We  had  plenty  of  fatigue ;  some  un- 
avoidable inconveniences,  but  very  much  of  real 
enjoyment. 


206     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

Did  the  long  tour  pay?  Yes,  a  thousand  times 
over.  India  is  the  mystery  of  mysteries ;  the  land 
of  insoluble  enigmas.  The  Indians  are  no  more 
of  one  race  than  are  the  natives  of  Europe.  A 
thousand  streams  of  humankind  have  emptied  into 
the  ethnic  life  of  the  Peninsula.  Its  complexity 
enables  Great  Britain  to  govern  its  millions.  Its 
system  of  castes  assists.  These  castes,  originally 
dividing  the  people  into  priests,  soldiers  and 
farmers  or  mechanics,  were  really  primitive  trades 
unions.  They  have  swollen  into  so  many  sub- 
castes  that  there  are  said  to  be  more  than  2000 
of  them.  Religious  sanctions  impressed  the 
castes  with  a  certain  solemnity.  Gross  perver- 
sions resulted.  To  this  day  there  is  a  caste  of 
thieves.  At  a  house  where  we  were  guests,  my 
attention  was  called  to  a  fine-looking  "boy"  or 
servant.  The  lady  told  me  that  he  belonged  to 
the  thief-caste;  but,  so  long  as  he  was  employed, 
he  could  be  trusted  not  to  steal,  and  the  household 
was  immune  from  robbery  by  members  of  his 
caste. 

MONEY-LENDING  AND   NATIVE  ARTS 

A  great  evil  in  India  is  money-lending.  The 
lender  is  called  a  chetty  or  bunyah.  Exorbitant 
rates  are  charged.  Custom  requires  that  a  man 
should  assume  the  debts  of  his  father  or  grand- 
father. He  is  thus  enslaved  for  life.  Often  he 
cannot  keep  up  with  the  swelling  interest.  A 
creditor  often  flogs  the  debtor  if  he  cannot  meet 
the  payments  due  on  his  debt. 


INDIA  207 

The  religious  sect  of  Jains  is  a  strange  Indian 
phenomenon.  They  number  only  about  1,300,- 
000  in  a  population  of  315,000,000;  yet  they 
have  immense  wealth,  often  gathered  from  money- 
lending.  The  men  wear  a  peculiar  cap,  em- 
bossed with  gold  or  silver  on  the  back.  The 
Jains  believe  that  everything,  even  a  stone,  has 
life.  They  will  therefore  not  take  life  in  any 
form.  We  were  told  of  a  rich  Jain  in  Calcutta 
who  hires  a  man  to  sleep  in  his  bed  the  first  part 
of  every  night,  so  that  his  substitute  may  at- 
tract the  lice  and  vermin.  A  Jain  priest  sweeps 
the  path,  as  he  walks,  to  avoid  killing  an  insect. 

The  Jains  control  much  of  the  cotton  manu- 
facturing of  India;  also  banking  establishments. 
Their  faces  are  keen  and  greedy.  They  hold 
in  their  grasp  thousands  of  Indian  peasants. 
They  look  as  if  they  were  merciless  creditors. 

This  system  of  credit  is  a  terrible  curse  in  In- 
dia. There  is  no  country  where  wealth  has  more 
power.  The  contrast  between  the  helpless  pov- 
erty of  the  peasants  and  the  barbaric  opulence 
of  rajahs  and  nizams  is  painful.  The  peasant 
is  hardly  one  day  away  from  starvation.  Yet, 
with  the  first  flush  of  a  little  prosperity,  he  buys 
jewelry  for  himself,  wife  and  children.  In  fact, 
the  excessive  love  of  decoration  is  one  of  the  great 
national  evils.  In  the  large  cities  families  of  con- 
siderable wealth  often  live  in  most  ignoble  sur- 
roundings. Yet,  when  occasion  arises,  they  blos- 
som out  with  expensive  jewels  and  ornaments. 


208     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

There  is  also  a  caste  of  beggars.  Probably 
some  of  the  mendicants  are  really  needy ;  some 
are  pretenders.  The  beggar  meets  the  tourist 
almost  everywhere;  whining  piteously,  he 
stretches  out  his  hands,  bows  and  prostrates  him- 
self. It  requires  quite  a  hardening  of  the  heart 
to  resist  his  importunities.  Little  children  are 
taught  the  trick  of  begging.  Often  the  appeal 
is  supplemented  by  bringing  up  one  afflicted  with 
blindness  or  lameness.  The  "holy  men,"  of  whom 
there  is  said  to  be  1,000,000  in  India,  live  by  beg- 
gary. 

Such  are  some  of  the  shadows  in  Indian  life; 
and  the  list  could  be  indefinitely  extended.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  is  much  that  is  beautiful. 
We  have  not  seen  a  drunken  person  in  India. 
The  street  crowds  have  been  very  orderly.  The 
Indians  are  a  courteous  race.  We  have  not  suf- 
fered one  act  of  discourtesy.  Smiles  and  wel- 
come await  the  stranger  at  every  temple  and  mu- 
seum. Moreover,  the  native  arts  are  wonderful. 
The  ivory  carvings,  wood  and  metal  work,  braid- 
ings, carpet  weaving,  lacquer,  silks,  laces,  em- 
broideries and  many  other  exhibitions  of  high 
and  refined  taste,  executed  with  marvelous  pa- 
tience and  ingenuity,  show  what  latent  power 
there  is  in  the  composite  race.  There  is  a  vast 
reserve  of  ability  which  by  and  by  will  be  exer- 
cised on  a  larger  field.  A  curio  shop  in  Benares 
or  Delhi  is  a  veritable  museum.  Most  of  the  ex- 


INDIA  209 

quisite  fabrics  and  metallic  wares  are  still  made 
by  hand.  To  hurry  is  no  part  of  the  Indian 
character.  He  learns  one  thing  and  to  do  that 
one  thing  well.  Slowly  machinery  is  supplanting 
hand-labor. 

The  Indian,  like  the  Japanese,  understands 
color  effects.  His  art  exhibits  a  taste,  a  sense 
of  form,  often  a  dignity,  which  is  remarkable. 

The  Indian  temperament  is  artistic.  From  his 
turban  to  his  temple,  his  eye  is  quick  to  adopt 
that  color  or  symbol  which  most  befits  the  object. 

INDIAN    RETROSPECT 

India  is  now  behind  me.  The  dream  of  my 
boyhood  has  been  realized.  My  eye  has  rested 
upon  the  fanes,  the  sacred  groves,  the  stately 
temples  and  mosques,  the  teeming  cities,  the  over- 
flowing bazaars,  the  foaming  crowds,  the  splen- 
did arts,  the  Taj  Mahal,  the  white-crowned 
Himalayas,  the  jeweled  idols,  the  pageant  of 
color  and  ritual,  of  which  I  read  when  a  child. 

While  our  tour  has  been  longer  and  has  had 
a  wider  range  than  that  of  most  tourists,  I  knew 
we  touched  only  the  hem  of  the  mighty  civiliza- 
tion. Of  its  inner  life,  its  secret  temperament, 
its  intellectual  stirrings,  its  heart-beats,  a 
stranger  can  learn  but  little. 

There  were  some  disappointments:  but  much 
was  realized.  Some  experiences  will  be  dwarfed; 
others  will  dilate,  if  life  is  spared.  Much  has 


210     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

been  left  unseen.     A  tour  of  a  year  would  leave 
much  unseen. 

India,  even  under  the  fresh  impressions  of  this 
hour,  looms  up  in  the  memory  as  something 
ghostly  and  spectral ;  almost  an  unreality :  "  the 
stuff  that  dreams  are  made  on."  It  is  unlike  any 
other  country.  It  was  a  civilization  when  Eu- 
rope was  a  wilderness  and  America  unknown. 
What  has  given  it  its  persistency?  Perhaps  the 
answer  a  Hindu  gave  me,  when  I  asked  the  ques- 
tion, may  be  true:  "We  Indians  know  how  to 
live,  how  to  accept  life.  Westerners  do  not. 
We  shall  survive  all  Western  nations.  Our  cli- 
mate is  our  defense ;  English  occupation  is  but 
a  bubble  in  Indian  history.  It  has  done  some 
harm,  much  good.  Let  the  English  stay  as  long 
as  they  wish.  The  time  will  come  when  they  will 
be  glad  to  retire.  India  was  not  intended  for 
Westerners.  When  they  go,  the  waters  will  close 
over  this  short  episode  in  Indian  history.  We 
shall  become  ourselves  again, — but  wiser  and  bet- 
ter because  they  have  been  here.  India  is  for  the 
Indians." 


XVIII 
CEYLON,  THE  BEAUTIFUL 

In  the  afternoon  they  came  unto  a  land, 
In   which  it   seemed   always   afternoon. 

Tennyson. 

LEAVING   THE    ORIENT 

Whether  or  not  a  country  is  interesting  to  a 
tourist  depends,  in  a  great  measure,  upon  the 
spirit  with  which  he  approaches  it.  When  we 
landed  at  Colombo,  after  a  pleasant  voyage  of 
one  night  from  Tuticorin,  on  the  mainland  of  In- 
dia, we  were  rather  drugged  with  sight-seeing. 
For  months  we  had  been  seeking  the  beautiful 
and  the  picturesque.  Our  sense  of  curiosity  had 
been  blurred  by  an  affluence  of  strange  scenes. 
Mountain  and  valley,  hill  and  plain,  temple  and 
mosque,  city  and  village,  palace  and  hut,  had 
been  repeated  to  us  in  a  hundred  forms.  It  al- 
most seemed  that  there  was  nothing  new  under 
the  sun  of  the  Orient  for  us  to  see.  So,  beauti- 
ful as  is  the  island  of  Ceylon,  it  excited  in  us 
only  a  comparatively  languid  interest.  Java 
had  disclosed  tropical  vegetation  on  a  larger 
scale.  The  Malayan  Peninsula  had  presented  its 

wilderness   of  untamed  jungle.     India  had  over- 
all 


GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

whelmed  the  imagination  by  the  millions  of  its 
people,  almost  as  innumerable  as  the  sands  of 
the  sea.  We  had  been  swept  into  the  vortex  of 
its  seething  cities ;  had  watched  the  golden  glow 
of  its  tinted  skies ;  had  been  impressed  by  the  tu- 
multuous grandeur  of  its  temple  architecture. 
After  all  this,  the  gentle  charms  of  Ceylon  did 
not  make  the  sensitive  appeal  which  would  have 
come  if  we  had  reached  it  earlier  in  our  tour. 

Colombo,  the  capital  of  Ceylon,  is  a  large, 
modern  city,  washed  by  the  dark  blue  waters  of 
the  Indian  Ocean  and  swept  by  sea  breezes.  It 
is  hot,  but  healthy.  Its  clean,  macadamized 
streets  offer  excellent  privileges  for  riding. 
There  is  little  in  Colombo  to  interest  a  tourist. 
It  is  a  port  of  entry  for  eastward-  and  westward- 
bound  steamers.  They  fly  into  the  harbor,  which 
is  protected  by  a  fine  breakwater,  nestle  there 
for  a  few  hours ;  then  leap  into  the  vast  ocean, 
after  giving  to  their  passengers  an  opportunity 
to  tread  upon  the  solid  earth,  and  to  realize, 
after  long  days  of  sea-travel,  that  there  is  such  a 
substance  as  dry  land. 

PLANTATION    LIFE 

The  British  Orient  furnishes  opportunity  for  a 
livelihood  to  thousands  of  young  men.  Many  are 
in  the  military  and  civil  service  of  the  govern- 
ment. The  great  development  of  the  rubber  in- 
dustry has  required  the  investment  of  many  mil- 


CEYLON,  THE  BEAUTIFUL         213 

lions  of  English  capital.  Most  of  the  managers 
of  the  plantations  are  young  men.  Often  they 
live  in  lonely  isolation ;  maybe  in  the  jungles  of 
the  Malayan  Peninsula,  or  in  the  deeper  solitudes 
of  Sumatra;  or  on  one  of  the  smaller  islands, 
where  there  is  no  social  life,  and  where  communi- 
cation with  the  great  world  of  human  activities  is 
infrequent.  Such  is  the  life  of  young  Americans 
in  the  Philippines;  such  is  the  general  aspect  of 
all  frontier  living.  We  have  met  scores  of  young 
men  who  are  thus  committed  to  the  wilderness,  in 
their  most  vigorous  years.  Many  of  them  com- 
plain of  the  burning  tropical  heat;  of  insidious 
malaria;  of  the  wastage  of  their  incomes  on  phy- 
sicians and  medicines. 

Such  is  one  of  the  inevitable  tolls  of  industrial 
progress.  To  re-claim  the  tropics,  to  graft  the 
economic  processes  of  the  West  upon  the  alien 
East,  will  cost  their  price, — an  awful  price, — in 
blood  and  muscle.  Yet  all  this  is  necessary.  It 
is  a  working  of  the  law  of  reciprocity.  No  man 
liveth  to  himself  alone.  Every  genuine  life  is 
vicarious.  Service  is  demanded  of  all  of  us.  The 
tea  which  we  drink,  the  rice  on  our  table,  the  rub- 
ber used  in  many  forms  of  our  economic  arts,  the 
spices,  the  fruits, — everything,  wrung  from  the 
soil,  the  world  over, — are  human  contributions. 
Without  the  aid  of  man,  the  earth  would  relapse 
into  a  primeval  wilderness.  Man's  sweat  is  its 
richest  fertilizer. 


214     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

INDUSTRIES,    RELIGION    AND    SCENERY 

The  island  of  Ceylon  has  an  area  of  something 
more  than  25,000  square  miles,  a  little  more  than 
half  that  of  Java.  It  is  mountainous  and  has 
much  fine  scenery.  The  aboriginal  inhabitants  are 
the  Veddahs ;  some  of  these  primitive  people  are 
still  living  on  the  island,  black,  woolly,  mostly  fish- 
ermen. The  Singhalese — so  the  natives  of  Cey- 
lon are  termed — are  a  mixture  of  Indian  and  other 
Oriental  races.  Most  of  them  are  Buddhists  in 
religion.  The  island  has  ruins  of  ancient  Buddhis- 
tic temples.  Tradition  says  that  Buddha  made 
three  visits  to  Ceylon.  When  the  religion  which 
/£  he  founded  was  absorbed  in  India  by  Hinduism,  it 
remained  the  faith  of  Ceylon.  At  Kandy — now  a 
mountain  resort,  once  the  capital  of  one  of  the 
Singhalese  kingdoms — we  visited  the  Maligawa 
Temple,  the  Temple  of  the  Tooth.  Here,  for 
many  years,  it  was  believed  that  a  tooth  of  Buddha 
was  preserved ;  it  was  regarded  as  a  relic  of  great 
holiness.  It  was  destroyed  by  the  Portuguese,  and 
one  of  ivory  is  substituted.  The  temple  was  also 
interesting  as  the  repository  of  a  library  of  Bud- 
dhistic literature ;  the  books  in  one  alcove  are  in 
the  ancient  Sanscrit  language. 

Ceylon,  now  a  British  possession,  has  been  un- 
der control  of  Europeans — Portuguese,  Dutch  or 
British — for  some  four  hundred  years.  It  was 
once  divided  into  several  petty  kingdoms,  generally 
engaged  in  wars.  Its  main  products  are  tea,  rub- 


CEYLON,  THE  BEAUTIFUL         215 

ber  and  rice.  Once  coffee  was  a  staple  product, 
but  about  forty  years  ago  a  fungus  destroyed  the 
plant,  and  tea  was  substituted.  This  industry 
has  grown  amazingly ;  the  annual  output  exported 
has  reached  190,000,000  pounds. 

Adam's  Peak  is  a  sacred  shrine,  visited  annually 
by  many  thousand  pilgrims.  On  it  is  an  indenta- 
tion in  the  rock  which  is  in  the  form  of  a  human 
foot.  The  myth-making  instinct  of  man  has 
given  to  this  stony  freak  several  interpretations. 
To  the  Buddhist  it  is  the  imprint  of  the  footsteps 
of  Buddha ;  to  the  Hindu  of  Siva ;  to  the  Moslem 
of  Adam.  Thus  each  religion  finds  the  spot  sa- 
cred. To  make  a  pilgrimage  to  it  is  a  high  act  of 
superstitious  duty. 

Kandy  is  a  delightful  little  place,  snugged  in 
green  hills.  An  artificial  lake  refreshes  it  with 
coolness.  The  town  offers  numerous  attractive 
excursions.  One  of  them  is  a  ride  to  the  river, 
where  we  saw  seven  sacred  elephants  taking  their 
afternoon  bath.  The  bulky  creatures  sported  in 
the  water  like  children.  Their  riders  scrubbed 
them  with  curry-combs ;  patted  them,  as  they  lay 
sprawled  upon  the  bed  of  the  shallow  river;  and 
called  them  by  their  names  when  they  wished  them 
to  come  out. 

Another  fine  excursion  is  to  the  botanical  gar- 
dens at  Peradeniya. 

Here  is  a  large  collection  of  tropical  growths. 
A  railroad  ride  of  about  forty  miles  took  us  up  a 


216     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

steep  grade,  to  Hatton.  We  passed  immense 
plantations  of  tea  and  rubber.  Tea  seems  to 
thrive  the  best  in  high  altitudes.  The  hillsides 
were  covered  with  the  bushes  carefully  adjusted 
in  long  rows  and  cultivated  with  scientific  preci- 
sion. The  tea-plant  is  long-lived.  The  climate  of 
Ceylon  is  admirably  adapted  to  its  culture.  The 
paddy  (rice)  farms  are  generally  located  in  the 
valleys. 

As  almost  everywhere  in  the  Orient,  we  heard 
the  cry  of  scarcity  of  labor.  Indentures  are  not 
now  much  in  use.  Labor  is  free.  Wages  are 
slowly  rising.  India  offers  a  swarming  labor  mar- 
ket. Thousands  of  Tamils  work  on  the  planta- 
tions of  rice,  rubber  and  tea.  Their  employers 
advance  their  passage-money.  Complaints  are 
heard,  as  in  the  Malayan  Peninsula,  of  the  fre- 
quent faithlessness  of  the  coolies  in  failing  to 
keep  their  contracts.  It  seems  singular;  but  we 
heard  the  complaint  over  and  over  again  in  Java, 
the  Malayan  Peninsula,  and  Ceylon,  that  the  na- 
tive is  indolent,  indisposed  to  work,  with  few  wants, 
and  little  ambition  to  learn  any  new  processes. 
So,  alien  labor  must  be  imported. 

THE    IXDIAN    OCEAN 

On  March  14,  we  started  by  steamer  for  the 
long  voyage  to  Marseilles,  France,  via  the  Red 
Sea  and  Suez  Canal.  It  was  not  quite  a  farewell 
to  Asia,  for  we  knew  that  the  steamer  would  touch 


CEYLON,  THE  BEAUTIFUL 

at  Aden,  Arabia ;  but  it  was  a  farewell  to  the  im- 
pressive Indian  civilization;  to  all  the  vivid  ex- 
periences which  make  India  the  most  fascinating 
to  the  tourist  of  all  lands.  Behind  us  lay  the 
mighty  cities,  the  glorious  temples  and  mosques, 
the  many  millions  of  turbaned  heads  and  swart 
faces ;  the  noisy  streets  of  the  bazaars ;  the  chatter 
of  strange  tongues ;  the  haunting,  unreadable 
mystery  in  which  the  ancient  land  is  shrouded. 
We  thought  of  the  much  that  we  had  seen ;  of  the 
more  that  we  had  not  seen.  All  was  now  swept 
into  the  memory ;  the  snowy  Himalayas,  the  low- 
lands of  Bengal  and  the  Deccan,  the  plains  of 
Punjab,  the  arid  reaches  of  Rajputana  and  Hy- 
derabad ;  the  tumbling  ridges  of  South  India ;  the 
plantations  of  Ceylon. 

Favoring  winds  and  gentle  waves  made  the  voy- 
age pleasant.  The  steamer  was  crowded  with 
passengers.  It  came  to  Colombo  from  Australia. 
More  than  half  the  300  passengers  were  from  that 
distant  island,  and  from  still  more  distant  New 
Zealand.  A  cheery,  robust  lot  of  people,  they  look 
as  if  the  world  had  used  them  well.  When  they 
reach  England, — "  home,"  they  all  call  the  mother- 
land,— they  will  have  been  more  than  a  month  on 
the  steamer. 

The  steamer's  course  was  over  that  part  of  the 
Indian  ocean  known  as  the  Arabian  Sea  or  Gulf. 
Happily,  the  extreme  heat  which  we  dreaded,  was 
absent.  The  northerly  monsoon  favored  us. 


218     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

On  the  third  day  we  sighted  the  northeast 
coast-line  of  the  great  continent  of  Africa ;  the  in- 
dependent region,  known  as  Somaliland,  where  the 
Mad  Mullah  gave  the  English  so  much  trouble  a 
few  years  ago.  It  is  a  grisly,  inhospitable  shore- 
line ;  with  hardly  a  tree  in  sight ;  running  back  to 
gray  hills.  The  only  visible  signs  of  life  were  a 
few  tiny  villages  and  an  occasional  fish-boat. 
North  of  Somaliland  are  Italian  and  French  pos- 
sessions;  back  of  them  Abyssinia;  then  the  arid 
wastes  of  Upper  Egypt. 

ADEN,    ABASIA 

On  the  fourth  day  we  entered  the  harbor  of 
Aden.  This  ancient  city  is  now  an  English  pos- 
session, incorporated  as  a  part  of  the  Bombay 
Presidency.  In  the  harbor  lay  several  steamships. 
Aden  is  strongly  fortified,  as  it  commands  the 
entrance  to  the  Red  Sea.  Once  it  was  an  out- 
post of  Phoenician  commerce.  That  adventurous, 
seafaring  race  sent  its  flat-bottomed  vessels  down 
the  Red  Sea  in  search  of  gums,  pearls  and  tropical 
products ;  and  down  the  east  coast  of  Africa  for 
ivory.  The  commercial  importance  of  Aden  is 
shrinking.  It  is  a  collection  of  Arab  villages,  in- 
habited by  all  sorts  of  dusky  races. 

We  spent  nearly  a  day  on  shore.  Nothing  could 
be  more  uninviting  than  the  parched  purlieu  of 
Aden.  There  is  no  arable  soil;  no  vegetation. 
It  is  a  treeless,  plantless  waste.  The  region  is 
almost  rainless.  Some  Arab  chief — no  one  knows 


CEYLON,  THE  BEAUTIFUL         219 

when — constructed  a  system  of  water  tanks,  in 
days  before  the  condensation  of  brine  was  discov- 
ered. These  tanks  were  designed  to  catch  the 
drip  of  the  thunder-storms,  which  occasionally 
burst  over  the  desert's  dusty  face.  They  have  a 
storage  capacity  of  8,000,000  gallons.  They  are 
now  entirely  empty.  The  water  used  in  Aden  is 
obtained  by  condensation  and  sold  to  the  people. 
The  tanks  are  ingeniously  constructed  and  are  the 
one  object  of  interest  to  the  tourist.  Salt  is  dis- 
tilled in  large  quantities  from  the  sea-brine. 

The  street  life  in  Aden  is  of  the  most  miscellan- 
eous character.  Here  are  seen  the  Bedouins,  the 
men  from  the  province  of  Yemen;  those  of  the 
Azra  tribe;  Samalis,  Soudanese,  Nubians;  fierce- 
looking  clansmen  from  the  interior  of  Arabia; 
Jews  and  some  Hindus.  The  camel  is  the  univer- 
sal beast  of  burden.  Thousands  of  them  trail 
into  and  out  of  the  city  loaded  with  packs  that 
would  crush  a  horse.  One  section  of  the  city  is 
devoted  to  a  camel  market.  Coffee,  dates,  figs, 
ostrich  feathers,  gums  and  spices  are  the  main  ar- 
ticles of  commerce.  Caravans  of  camels  from  the 
unknown  interior  of  Arabia  come  and  go  in  ghostly 
procession. 

All  food  is  imported  into  the  city ;  yet  the  peo- 
ple seem  to  be  well-fed.  Loafers  lounged  about 
the  shop-doors,  playing  cards.  As  the  Arabs  are 
Mohammedans,  the  women  are  veiled. 

Aden  is  a  strange,  wild,  parched  city  of  nearly 
50,000  inhabitants.  Behind  it  stretch  incommun- 


220     GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

icable  deserts,  where  the  nomadic  Bedouins  range 
on  camels  and  Arabian  horses ;  fierce,  untamed, 
lawless,  rapacious. 

Little  is  known  of  Arabia;  yet  it  is  the  birth- 
place of  one  of  the  world's  great  religions.  From 
its  deserts  the  Saracenic  followers  of  the  Prophet 
once  poured  over  Western  Asia,  Northern  Africa, 
and  Southern  Europe ;  animated  by  frenzied  fan- 
aticism, greedy  for  loot.  Mecca  is  visited  by 
every  faithful  Moslem  who  can  manage  to  get  him- 
self there.  Under  the  fierce  skies  of  Arabia,  on 
its  thirsty  sands,  in  its  palm  groves,  are  an  un- 
known number  of  millions  of  people ;  living  as  their 
fathers  did ;  proud  of  their  faith,  impervious  to 
new  truths. 

In  its  way,  Aden  was  very  interesting.  In  the 
summer,  it  is  one  of  the  hottest  places  on  the  globe. 

THE    RED    SEA 

We  passed  Perim  and  Cape  Babel  Mandeb  in 
the  early  morning,  before  daybreak.  When  we 
awoke,  we  found  ourselves  on  the  Red  Sea.  There 
was  nothing  in  its  color  to  indicate  the  appropri- 
ateness of  its  name.  It  is  about  1300  miles  long. 
Its  greatest  width  is  200  miles.  The  sea  is  shal- 
low ;  coral  reefs  line  the  African  and  Arabian 
shores.  It  is  in  a  slow  process  of  upheaval.  A 
great  commerce  passes  over  it.  Some  of  the  ugly- 
looking  reefs  are  surmounted  with  lighthouses. 

The   drowsy   days   passed  in  languid  idleness. 

It    is    an    interesting   experience   to   touch   the 


CEYLON,  THE  BEAUTIFUL 

thought  and  ways  of  far-off  Australasian  life;  to 
compare  views  on  the  intricate  problems  which  all 
the  nations  of  the  world  are  facing- :  to  learn  a  little 
of  the  manner  of  Antipodal  life. 

THE   SUEZ    CANAL    AND    PORT    SAID 

For  sixteen  hours  the  steamer  strained  through 
the  Suex  Canal.  Its  level,  sandy  banks  contrast 
strangely  with  the  rocky  cliffs  through  which  the 
Panama  Canal  has  been  hewn.  Here  and  there 
was  an  Egyptian  village;  now  and  then  a  train 
of  camels ;  an  occasional  palm-grove ;  but  most  of 
the  landscape  was  an  arid  plain;  a  dreary  waste. 
Much  engineering  skill  is  required  to  keep  the 
canal  from  filling  with  silt.  Trees  have  been 
planted;  barricades  constructed;  channels  de- 
flected. Yet  with  all  this  expense  the  canal  is  a 
highly  prosperous  investment. 

We  landed  at  Port  Said  for  a  day.  The  shore- 
town  had  greatly  improved  since  my  last  visit, 
four  years  ago.  It  has  been  vivified  into  quite  a 
clean  and  respectable  port.  Most  of  the  shops 
seemed  to  be  kept  by  French  and  Italians. 

In  the  late  afternoon  we  set  sail  for  Marseilles, 
France.  The  sands  of  low-lying  Egypt  receded 
into  the  gathering  darkness. 

FAREWELL  TO   THE   ORIENT 

We  were  moving  from  the  dreamy  Orient  into 
the  more  robust  Occident.  Behind  us,  were  the 
ancient  lands  of  mystery;  the  cradle  of  all  the 


GOLDEN  WINDOW  OF  THE  EAST 

great  religions  of  the  world;  the  plumed  palms, 
the  cocoanut  groves,  the  rose-tinted  skies;  the 
oceans  of  human  life;  inveterate  traditions;  im- 
mense areas  of  uncharted  history;  swarms  of 
nationalities ;  the  appealing  call  of  the  home-land 
of  the  human  race ;  the  incommunicable  charm ;  the 
inarticulate  throbs  of  a  billion  of  hearts. 

Before  us  was  the  Occident  with  its  civilizations 
building  upon  the  dynamics  of  liberty ;  with  its 
glory  of  mechanics,  its  witchery  of  science.  We 
knew  that,  in  the  interaction  of  the  East  and 
West,  the  collision  will  be  largely  of  realities  with 
dreams ;  of  the  trained  brain  and  hand  with  riot- 
ous imagination  and  crude  muscle ;  of  free  inquiry 
with  ancient  superstitions. 

The  rosy  clouds  softened  into  mother-of-pearl. 
The  tremulous  vapor  thickened  with  jet. 

Soon,  black  night  settled  on  the  restless  Med- 
iterranean, and  closed 

"The  Golden  Window  of  the  East." 


\C193178 


